#uncrowned king of Mondstadt

[blastyangel]

Uncrowned King of Mondstadt🤴🏻

[blushouyo]

always feel a little unhinged when I remember that both diluc and kaeya are pseudo-royalty

[dawnsdark]

tag dump.

[n0tamused]

Genshi/HSR Characters as Dragons!

A/n: It has been a bit since my last dragon post, sorry my friends. Gotten a bit under the weather but I think that small reprieve has given me a lot of time to think of these designs! So I really hope you like them. Let me know what you think, or maybe who you'd like to see next in dragon form?

Contents: Diluc Ragnvindr, Sunday, Trailblazers(Stelle and Caelus) x GN Reader (separate), angsty hcs and also fluff, implied religious trauma in Sunday's hcs? Trauma in general.

Words: 2000

Diluc Ragnvindr:

-The esteemed Uncrowned King of Mondstadt is not only famous for belonging to a rich family and being top of the food chain in the industry, but also for possessing a power unlike any other. Dragons and dragon shapeshifters, although not unheard of or rare, have been scarcely seen since the cataclysm. Besides Dragon Dvalin, not many others are present in Mondstadt today

-No one exactly knows whether the Ragnivindr family had dragon people before, as the family seems to have kept their history to themselves, but if secrecy was their goal then what did bring Diluc to display his skill with claws and fang? Some speculate that it is not the Ragnvindr lineage that carries this power, but rather it is his mother that passed down the dragon blood onto her son. Diluc doesn’t talk about it whatever the case is. 

-Even in dragon form he is hard to mistake for someone else. He carries himself with power in every step and is always well kept. 

-Kaeya used to tease him when they were children, when Diluc didn’t have much control over his draconic form and when he used to stumble from being a kid one moment and being a small hatchling the other. Kaeya would pull at his tail only to get smacked by it. But the two boys were inseparable and trusted one another. Kaeya never spilled the secret of his red-headed brother’s abilities 

-Not even the childhood friends Jean and Barbara knew of the secret

-Yet, that dreadful night came when Crepus died, and flames soared so high and so hot that not even the rain could quench it. 

-It goes without saying that Diluc carries a lot of guilt and trauma from those days and for the first time in his life he found himself truly and utterly alone. He had no one. Crepus was dead, Kaeya betrayed him, Adelinde was just a maid, he couldn’t trouble her and he and any other friend he may have had in his youth have long since drifted apart.

-Grief turned to anger and that anger swallowed him, pushing him onward on the path of vengeance.

-Shneznaya had suffered much of his attacks - well, the Fatui there did, Diluc never risked harming a civilians, and he had saved quite a few hostages that the Fatui had gotten their hands on. In the land of ice, Diluc almost died as well once he came face to face with one of the Fatui Harbingers, and a dragon shifter at that too. He managed to live by the skin of his teeth, dragging his battered self into the snowy deserts that stretched on endlessly

-That incident ultimately sent him back to his home. He had learnt much and suffered plenty, it was time to let the winter turn to spring.

-Adelinde and Elzer had sent him many letters, he knew, he received most of them. Yet he never had the heart to respond to them..

-He came back a new man, scarred both in flesh and soul, yet a small piece of him was… content, maybe numb too. The cold of the nation Tsaritsa governs over certainly took its toll on him.

-If truth be told, he didn’t expect to return from the trip and he certainly didn’t think he’d ever form any sort of notable relationships in his personal life. He didn’t look for them nor did he particularly look forward to any either. His wound always felt too fresh to let anyone close

-Yet you just managed to do just that. Get close enough into this barricade he built around himself, and you helped put soft linen around his wounds, holding him close when he yearned for touch, leaving him be when he yearned for the cold.

-It took a while, but a rose in the wall of ice began to bloom. Flowers, no matter how delicate, always find cracks to grow in, even stronger than on solid ground.

-Diluc is quite protective of you, very much so, but he is not pushy with it. He understands boundaries and he himself is not a fan of always hovering over someone’s head or being in someone’s space. He does have his ears and good eyes, not just his own, that would alert him should any harm come to you

-You did find some of his feathers around the winery. At first you didn’t know they were his, so you just picked it up as it was still a rather impressive feather, yet it became even more precious once you learnt it belonged to him. Diluc didn’t understand why you’d keep it or regard it with so much admiration, but he wasn’t going to voice whatever protest he had that soon died on his tongue

-He reveals his dragon form to you even later, in the lush grass around the Dawn Winery during one dusky evening. Winter was coming so the air was chilly and breezy. You wanted to watch the sunset and to eventually stargaze, but Diluc wanted you warm while you did that, and soon his dragon form was lying behind your back, his warmth seeping into you and keeping you comfortable.

Sunday:

-Not every eye that is open is seeing, and not every eye that is closed is dreaming, so who are we to judge another? Sunday, the dragon in rule over the Land of Festivities, had long since ascended past a simple ruler. His current form alone demanded a certain form of delicate respect, a cautious one at that.

-No one remembers how he may have looked like before, if he had eyes or if those had been claimed by the Harmony or ▇▇▇▇

-Aeon of Harmony keeps their eyes closed, and in doing so rids themselves of any subjective thoughts. All are equal, and together we are stronger, such is the mantra of Harmony and Sunday was adept at putting that image forth. People were happy, people were content. 

-How many wings does Sunday have that are his own? Only two pairs. One pair meant for flight was crippled, cut short, and the other pair shields his eyes from the world. He now only moves and flies when THEY wish he flies, when THEY allow it, when THEY deem it necessary, and not anytime else. These wings are a burden and a blessing. They’re not his own but he hates to think they’d hurt him should he make some error - not that he would, he won't allow himself an error. No..

-Sunday inhabits his dragon form a lot of times, which, in a way, is also dictated by THEM. The only time he is human is when he goes behind the screen to listen to people confessing their bad deeds and their sins, bestowing his blessing and forgiveness unto them and guiding them back on the right track. THEY are merciful, he says, you have been forgiven.

-His words of advice and the action he took to ‘renovate’ the Land of Festivities(Dreams) have gained him much support and love and even many more followers where he previously had less. People generally did like the Oak family, they also loved his sister. She was the pearl of the Oak family, the sun, and he was the moon and the sea. 

-The colorful pair of horns on his head is said to come from the Harmony as well, it is THEIR blessing to Sunday, to look more formidable yet more approachable. It is THEIR gift. People know and people see this as a sign that he is the true leader they should follow. Many have become more easy to get to do certain things - most of them good yes, like behaving and upholding the rules while in the Dreamscape, but other actions came as hidden tactics from THEM to harvest the necessary power needed for the next step.

-Sunday has become lost in this grand scheme of things, and even the thought of the next morning became a thought too far to consider. He barely has time alone and to himself, he can never escape the eyes of THEM.

-He hates to trouble you. You two have drifted apart it would seem, yet from time to time Sunday would find you visiting him, wishing to give him company at least for a little while. And silently he prays he can indulge you - he wants to, he misses you, your warmth, your presence, your voice, your touch. He is welcoming to you. You have an idea of what’s happening: stress, work, duty - it is a response that he offered one too many times, but there was more, something you couldn’t dig up. It was a thorn in your side, you couldn’t get it out.

-So you sit with him, sharing some words and stories over dinner, tea and cakes. Other times you lay with him, his ear to your chest, listening to the gentle drumming of your heart, a lullaby that is the last thing able to have him sleep soundly.

-He dislikes for you to see him in his dragon form, he considers it broken although it looks angelic in the eyes of the majority, but as it is the form he is found in a lot of the time it is unavoidable. Yet you are the only person he allows to touch him, besides his sister. 

-Touch him, pet him, do as you wish. He is there for you.

Trailblazers:

-Double trouble, Baseballer of the Cosmos, the Nameless, the…*looks at smudged ink writing* Yes, the esteemed Trailblazers!

-You may have heard many stories about them, but once you get a look at them in reality, you’ll see just how amazing they are. The world is vast, yet they seem to shock everyone with their…otherworldly appearance.

-They both claim they weren’t like this before - they were two different people, but now they’re not and they do not remember how it all came to be this way. It is odd, but they’ve gotten used to it.

-Despite the appearance, Stelle is the more aggressive of the two and usually packs a more meaner bite, headbutt or a nastier scratch of the claws. Caelus is more shy, despite him looking more scary, he is sheepish and a tad bit more naive. But both of them are determined to get to the bottom of their story and to get back to their own bodies. The stellaron within them also seems to have something to do with their current predicament. 

-There were times where they were glad for it, as they could provide each other with company and comfort, their heads nuzzling their cheeks together or tangling their necks when they go to sleep in the dragon form. 

-Going in human form is rather complicated, neither of the two like it as one would have to be “dormant” while the other roams the world. The dormant one is able to hear most of what goes on outside, but they’re stuck roaming the subconscious like a heliobi - roaming through hazy memories and corridors. They have gotten used to each other's company so much that it is odd to be “alone”.

-They both love the express a lot and their significant other - which also puzzles them as to how they even have one to begin with.. but alright, they’re not arguing against it nor are they dissatisfied. It is funny how, at times, one of them can get sassy with the other when it comes to dates and things, sometimes even jealous. 

-But it is cute, and it works out in the end.

-At times there are situations where it would be better for either Stelle or Caelus to go (battle - Stelle; something more diplomatic - Caelus), so the two can switch back and forth if really necessary

-Their tail in dragon form is something like a beaver tail, although much fluffier. It can pack a nasty hit if you’re unfortunate to be on the receiving end of their attacks..

Size chart:

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

Tags: @moonlitreveri3 @lexidraws2 @drowning-in-cabbages @creationsabyss @grimulf-of-the-wilderness @st4rrl1ghtwastaken @the-inquisitive-constellation @voiddance @the-bilkush @fictionally-attached

+ @not-the-darknight (hope you don't mind the tag on there! <3)

[yrbladie]

♡ ﾟ˖ ॱ ▎WHEN THEY LOSE YOU ㅤ𝅄 🌿 ꒱

˖ ࣪ ayato, diluc, kaeya, neuvillette, zhongli

warnings ：angst, hurt no comfort, mentions of death and body (yours), sad bois, some have quite a comforting ending, others not so much, gn! reader, established relationship, implied marriage (ayato, diluc, zhongli), reader is called 'beautiful' (kaeya), spoiler free, non fluent writer

ㅤHe doesn't weep at first. Don't get him wrong, though, it's just that how could he ever fathom the thought of not having you by his side anymore?

ㅤYou were taken from his arms so suddenly that he wondered if you were ever real since the start, or only a fragment of his imagination, something that had always only belonged to his most beautiful dreams.

ㅤThe only way he knew you were indeed real was by the way people would talk behind his back when they thought he wasn't paying attention, talking about how sloppy he had become. Or the way he would still find small bits of you sprawled over his desk. Trinkets you gave him, and the letters you had sent to him the last time you went to visit your homeland for a week, knowing your lover would miss you too much.

ㅤIt suddenly dawns on him at that moment. How you were not there anymore, how he would never see you again, see your bright and beautiful smile or hear your giggle at his poor cooking skills.

ㅤAt that moment when he suddenly misses you, Ayato gets up and goes to visit you. In a place he never thought he would see you. Buried under the Sakura tree you planted with him last summer, the one where you both had wished for it to be as eternal as your love for each other.

ㅤHe sees your grave filled with flowers and gifts from the people you had known, and even finds the bouquet of flowers Thoma had sent under his name. And he kneels beside it, staring at your name written there.

ㅤHe still felt guilty, that he was not there for you when you needed him the most. That he was busy with work above anything else again. He could have protected you oh so easily, and he wasn't there.

ㅤ"I hope you can forgive this stupid lover of yours, my dear."

ㅤForgive him for everything. Forgive him for not loving you better, and for not being strong enough to be there when you died nor when you were buried.

ㅤAyato now knew, dreams are never meant to last.

ㅤWhen people saw you both together on the streets, with Diluc carefully holding your hand or touching the small of your back to guide you through the streets, like you were made of the finest porcelain, everyone thought they were going crazy.

ㅤThere was no way, the master Diluc Ragnvindr, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt, unmatched in every possible way, had gotten himself a lover.

ㅤWhen you arrived it was like a breath of fresh air for everyone who knew Diluc. You made him a different man, made people see a different side of him Diluc himself doubted existed.

ㅤAnd you were everything to him. Until the fateful day you were forcibly taken from him.

ㅤBut still, he couldn't hope to grieve, he had no time to let himself stop and rest, not even for a minute. In a minute so many things can happen, just like in a minute you were gone.

ㅤDiluc still had Mondstadt to protect, and he would focus solely on that for as long as there was still air in his lungs. Even if his torn heart still churned in pain everyday.

ㅤEven if in the darkest hours of the night, just before dawn, he would still sit alone in his dimly lit room, the weight of his grief pressing down on him like a heavy shroud. The walls of his manor, once filled with laughter and love, now seemed to echo with the emptiness of his loss. The air was heavy with the scent of fading memories.

ㅤEverything in your shared room is a bittersweet reminder of the warmth that had once been, now slipping through the cracks of time.

ㅤOutside, the world moved on, without you. And Diluc couldn't understand it, for his world was you. Every moment without you felt like an eternity.

ㅤAnd in those short moments he wept. Letting the pain flow freely, as if by releasing it, he could somehow reach across the chasm that separated you both. And he still could somehow feel your presence in brief moments, a soft whisper in the breeze or a fleeting glimpse in a dream.

ㅤDiluc had experience in mourning, and he knew that one day, the sharpness of his pain might dull, but his love for you would remain eternally vibrant, a testament to the life you had shared.

ㅤIn his own way, he would carry on, honoring your memory with each step forward, holding you close in the chambers of his heart, as he navigated the path of grief, one tear and one memory at a time.

ㅤIn that way, Diluc could forever hold you close to his heart somehow. The idea that you would have liked that he kept protecting those you had come to love, gave him comfort as he got up for another day.

ㅤYou were his first, but also his last.

ㅤOh, to be loved by the Cavalry Captain, with his deceiving smiles and well thought words. People used to call him such a heartbreaker before you came along and showed to all that Kaeya Alberich could be so much more than that.

ㅤIt seemed like he always had a smile reserved only for you. Different from the grins and crooked smiles he gave for others. With you nothing was ever fake, you had managed to tear down the walls he built to keep himself safe each and every time, no matter how much he tried to keep you at an arm's length.

ㅤBefore Kaeya even noticed you had already made a home in his heart and had no plans of leaving.

ㅤBut of course, fate had always found its way to mock him. He could but only watch as your life slipped past his fingers like sand, no matter how much he held onto you and begged the skies not to take you. Not you too.

ㅤIn the end, Kaeya still had to carry back your lifeless body to Mondstadt, back to your home where you belonged.

ㅤBut did he still belong there now? He was once again reminded of his purpose, the destiny that hung heavily above his head, like a death sentence forever haunting and taunting him. A destiny he just couldn’t seem to escape.

ㅤCursed to loneliness, to destruction. He should have known he didn’t deserve all the happiness you had brought along with your love to his wretched life.

ㅤYou had slipped away, leaving behind a void that seemed insurmountable. In the beginning, Kaeya refused to acknowledge the cruel twist of fate. He clung to the hope that this was all a nightmare, a cruel illusion that would dissipate with the morning light.

ㅤDays turned into nights, and reality set in, stubborn and unyielding. The denial that had once shielded him from the harsh truth began to crumble like a fragile dam battered by the relentless waves of sorrow.

ㅤHe still remembered everything about you. While others would talk about how sweet you were to everyone, Kaeya would remember the laughter shared on lazy Sunday mornings, the whispered promises exchanged under a blanket of stars, and the simple joys of a life built together.

ㅤHe still had your portrait on his desk, a painful reminder of how beautiful you looked when you smiled up at him. And he still wondered how you were. Are you happy now, wherever you are? Are you safe?

ㅤOr do you miss him like he misses you?

ㅤKaeya only found solace on those lonely starry nights, where he laid by himself on the grassy field he always hated, saying the grass always got stuck at his hair as you laughed, calling him such a drama king.

ㅤAnd as the first rays of dawn began to set in, he smiled.

ㅤThe pain remained, a constant companion, but it transformed into a tribute—a testament to a love that transcended the boundaries of mortality. With a heavy heart, he got up, in a silent acknowledgment that life, though forever altered, would continue.

ㅤHe would carry your cherished memories with him into an uncertain tomorrow. With a newfound strength—a resilient ember burning in the ashes of loss, Kaeya had to carry on.

ㅤEven if his fate overtakes him once more one day, the whispers of your voice, urging him to embrace life would always remind him that there was something out there worth fighting for. And that one day, when his body and heart rests for one last time, he will meet you again.

ㅤThe skies of Fontaine have never been cloudier than since the day you died. The rain poured down, seeming endless. Like a mourning prayer for another loss the nation held.

ㅤYour funeral was quiet and quite lonely. You had not really been a person that went out each and everyday, or that easily befriended all that you met through your day. You were a common person, like any other in Fontaine, maybe just a little weird with your outlander ways.

ㅤBut Neuvillette still loved you anyway.

ㅤYour love for each other was nothing grand nor loud. It was almost timid, but shined brightly like an unwavering ember.

ㅤSo it didn't come as a surprise that no one knew about your relationship with each other. Neuvillette was, before anything, an important and key figure in Fontaine, his every move scrutinized under the city's gaze, yet whose true emotions remain hidden behind a mask of stoicism.

ㅤEven to the end, he couldn't even attend your funeral. Watching from the sidelines, like an outsider. He watched as your loved ones paid their respects, leaving their flowers and good wishes that you now may be safe, in the arms of the gods.

ㅤNeuvillette wanted to scoff at this. The gods were silent as their people suffered under their gaze. And most of all, there was no space for people like you on their golden mighty thrones.

ㅤWhen everyone parted and left only your lonely tombstone, did Neuvillette finally came to pay his own respects as the rain fell heavier, a reflection of how he felt inside. Like a storm that could never break free from the clutches of a well maintained facade of a composed judge.

ㅤYou made him so vulnerable as each time you touched his skin, his heart longed for more of you, with feelings he couldn't understand.

ㅤIf only he had noticed sooner, if only he had met you sooner.

ㅤIf only you were still here. To show him comfort once more.

ㅤBut as the calm and collected Iudex wept by the lonely grave, you were still gone.

ㅤAnd in the next day and even the next after that, every day became an act. An imperturbable, endless theatrical piece. Worthy of even being presented at the opera house.

ㅤAnd as Neuvillette still conducted each trial with unperturbed accuracy, the outside seemed to have forgotten about you. But not him, never.

ㅤHe still heard your voice, just outside his office, while you laughed with the Melusines. He still asked for two cups of tea to be prepared and people wondered who the other cup was for. And he still had the official documents where you accidentally doodled on and had apologized profusely for doing it, but Neuvillette had never held it against you.

ㅤAnd he still loved you. Each day when the rain started again, the pitter patter sound followed the judge as he disappeared through the corners of Fontaine to find you once again.

ㅤHis life was destined to be eternal, and so was his love for you, despite the fact you weren't by his side anymore.

ㅤAnd as Neuvillette still found small flowers and trinkets left on your grave, he knew he would not be the only one to forever remember about you.

ㅤThe God of Contracts was no stranger to loss and to mourning. He himself had buried more friends than he could count.

ㅤHe had an immortal soul and an unyielding memory. His friends were forever reminders on his everyday life, that he got to walk the places they never had a chance to see.

ㅤEvery time, he caught himself reminiscing about you, about your shared laughter under the bustling night time of Liyue, and the dreams over breakfast.

ㅤAnd how fate took you away from him.

ㅤThe town now seemed to be filled with a haunting silence, even if nothing much had changed. The vendors still called for him to eat and buy their products, he still watched the same plays and stories. But now every corner held a memory, a reminder.

ㅤDays turned to nights, and nights into days, but the pain persisted, insistently. Zhongli found solace in the shadows of the past, where memories of your happiness still lingered like a sweet melody.

ㅤHe never thought of himself as someone to be stuck in time. But your presence and your loss seemed to have made an ever deeper impact on his life than he initially thought.

ㅤAs the years went by, he would still wait for you. With the hope and the heartache that the skies would relent at his incessant prayers and return you to his arms, in another form, in another life, it didn't matter.

ㅤStill, he knew he was not alone. Hu Tao would pat him in the back gently in an almost nudging manner every day, encouraging him to go out again, to rest more. And slowly Zhongli felt like he could gather the shattered pieces of his heart again. Like his wounded soul still had a purpose.

ㅤEven if his body and mind eroded until there was nothing more left of him, he thought that all the memories of you would still be his most cherished treasures.

ㅤAnd so, in the quiet town where love once blossomed and sorrow cast its shadow, Zhongli would learn once more to carry the weight of loss with gentleness. The stars above forever witnesses of his eternal and enduring love for you.

ㅤIn the small shrine he built above your grave, where Zhongli could still feel your presence sometimes, through your pictures and the incense. His heart was finally at peace.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ《◇》

[huiyi07]

hey so do you guys ever think about how often Diluc is referred to as the ‘uncrowned king of Mondstadt’ since he’s like the only male heir to the noble families and like it or not, where Jean is the authority of the nation, he’s pretty much the symbolic face of Mondstadt and the values the nation projects— and despite his temperament, Diluc has learned to embrace it wholeheartedly. He’s charismatic, extremely righteous, and he blazes bright and gives the people of Mondstadt a fire that guides them in the dark, quite literally. Like he’s literally Bruce Wayne lmao

But he doesn’t want this, no, and here’s the proof- maybe he did, once upon a time, before everything happened— but he doesn’t really care about wine, he only cares about the winery because of the people in it and his father. He’s righteous but doesn’t give a damn about the rules and the knights of favonius. After what happened to him, he’s clearly a rebel at heart now, not some charming superhero who does everything expected of him, unlike before. In summary, Diluc was someone who was quite literally ready to become an (uncrowned) prince, pretty much royalty in every way except title- and on surface level, he still is, but he throws that mantle away in secret whenever he can.

And then look at Kaeya, his brother who’s always lived in his shadow. It’s easy to see that now, people don’t really project Mondstadt’s values onto Kaeya the same way they do onto Diluc, since lots of people hardly even remember that they’re brothers. And yeah people still think kaeya is reliable and nice, but also because of how Kaeya built his image after Diluc left— an excessively over the top personality that pretends to be sadistic, mean, and at the same time dripping with false charm. So despite that people still find him approachable and nice as expected of a knight, hardly anyone would call him befitting of a prince.

But Kaeya is actually so painfully and authentically ‘princely’ and kind, deep down— the way he deals with children, his fierce loyalty and willingness to protect people at all costs, his self sacrificial tendencies that most often appear for Diluc’s sake. Even the tidbits of lore we get about him scream aristocracy- his ‘ceremonial’ bladework, Alberich family secrets that reveal just how central they are to the kingdom of khaenriah. This is kinda obvious to any player who’s bothered to learn anything about kaeya, but to the characters in game, there are very few that know that side of him.

And whereas Diluc is forcibly projected the title of royalty and secretly rejects it, Kaeya was actually born into it- his family is very important to Khaenriah, and much like how he does with anything related to his past and heritage, he loudly and outwardly rejects anything to do with ‘royalty’. Diluc outwardly rejects what Kaeya shows (a darker, more ‘means justify the end’ nature), and Kaeya tries to hide what Diluc projects (a sophisticated and aristocratic upbringing).

Honestly? It’s as if they were swapped at birth. Kaeya’s real hidden nature, even after everything that happened to him, remains to be so unwavering and people-oriented, while Diluc’s true personality changed drastically over time. Not that Diluc isn’t unwavering or whatever, but Diluc mostly actively rejects relationships and prefers to do everything alone, obsessed with the idea that he doesn’t want anyone to get hurt, whereas Kaeya always, always yearns for companionship and for people to be by his side- solidarity.

Diluc is the poster image of royalty, but his brother who hides in the shadows is a real king. They complete each other, balance each other out, represent the parts that the other hides. I don’t know if hoyoverse always meant them to be that way, but damn they basically represent each other’s parts of themselves that they lost. Yin and Yang, two halves of the same whole.

[chigirisprincess]

woodrow that art of diluc smirking is actually insane /pos something about confident and cocksure diluc that has sm untapped potential 😵‍💫😵‍💫

it isn’t often that diluc smiles with the confidence of a man on fire. he’s reserved, quiet in his power; he’s the kind of man that gives the impression of strength without needing to jump through hoops to show it. he isn’t a performer, not by any means. he does not feel that he needs to express his strength as others often do, puffing their chests and cockfighting in the streets or even in his own bar on a late night.

but sometimes. in rare occasions. diluc ragnvindr becomes a cocky, confident, powerful animal of a man. he loses himself in his claymore. eyes hazed over the bridge of his nose. hair falling in his face. it is during these rare occasions that you understand why he might be called the uncrowned king of mondstadt.

[wri0thesley]

He kisses you, always, like he’s afraid it’s the last time he’ll ever get to. 

It’s strange, too; because you can remember at the beginning of your courtship, when Diluc was still aware he was the only Ragnvindr left to carry on the name, and he was unsure of everything. That he had left Mondstadt at eighteen and spent the years after battling through harsh climes and conditions, with nothing to warm him but the blaze of his conviction. When he had first come back to the place of his birth, when he had squared his shoulders and breathed hard through the mantle of fear, and he had once more taken up the post of Master of Dawn Winery. 

Those days of careful courtship, Diluc had treated you like he could not believe your existence; like you were a butterfly perched on a cecilia, or a particularly skittish horse. Like something easily breakable, that could at any moment decide he was not worth it. His hands had shook, when he had given you beautiful bouquets he had gruffly informed you he had cultivated himself. He had not quite been able to look you in the eye, when he had taken your hand that first time - his own so hot, even through his gloves, you had covertly tried to see if his vision was glowing without him realising it. 

And that first kiss--

An awkward clash of tongues and teeth, of Diluc almost seeming like he wanted to pull away until you had wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in closer, to reassure him that the kiss he was partaking in was something that was very much wanted. 

He has gotten better at kissing. He has been like some prince in a fairytale, you think, though you’d never express the thought aloud to him; Diluc would flush violently, would demur the comparison, and somehow you know it would get back to Sir Kaeya what you had said and the Cavalry Captain would never let him live it down. Now, he takes your chin in his hand - his crimson eyes meet yours, and a smile tugs at the very corners of his lips, and he leans in so close you can smell the scent of smoke and lampgrass that clings to his person, the cecilia oils that suffuse his shampoos and conditioners. 

And then he kisses you. 

And if the kiss is as you’d said - like he worries it will be the last time he will be able to kiss you - you do not say a word. It is not so much that it is a fight, nor is it that Diluc is clumsy with the way he touches you. It is merely that desperation leaks through in every movement; the echoing beat of his heart seems to say please do not leave me, please, please stay with me forever. He wants to learn the feel of your lips, the shape of your mouth, the sensation of your waist against his palm when he holds you against him. 

And you know why, too. You know about the middle of the night - Diluc stirring beside you, kissing you on the forehead when he thinks you are still asleep. Diluc’s quiet dressing, the sound of your bedroom door shutting - and the knowledge that Mondstadt will be safe tonight, even if Diluc is not. 

You know about the whispers that follow Diluc; about the things he was doing, when he was not properly tending to the Winery. You know about the shadows that fall over Diluc’s face when he dwells too long on memories of Crepus Ragnvindr, that seem to cloud over happy memories of his father. You do not know about Diluc, landing the killing blow on his father himself, if only to save him the suffering - but you know there is more to the story than anyone but he knows. Diluc thinks you would hate him for it - of course, you wouldn’t, but it is hard for him to marry the thought of sword slicing into the man who raised him and the knowledge that when his father looked him in the eye, he wanted Diluc to do it. 

You know about the bounty on his head, if he were to ever set foot on Snezhnayan soil again. You know that he has brought himself the ire of powerful enemies - and though he may be the uncrowned King of Mondstadt, though your little pastoral nation would stand beside him, it is nothing really compared to the finances of Snezhnaya, the churning war machine of the Fatui. 

So when he kisses you, as fiercely as anybody has ever been kissed, you kiss him back. You let your arms wrap about his neck as they once did what feels like a hundred years ago; you let your fingers tangle in the crimson strands of his hair. You try to commit him to memory; the feel of his muscles shifting beneath his jacket, the way his breath warms your lips, the soft grunt of surprise and pleasure if you tug on the hair, just a little bit. The taste of fruit juice that lingers in his mouth. The sensation of being his; beloved of Diluc Ragnvindr, of knowing that the man you have joined your life to would die for you and kill for you and love you in a hundred different worlds. 

And if he kisses you, like it is the last time he will ever get to-- 

Well. With Diluc, it always may well be. 

But even so . . . it would be worth it.

[seineko]

diluc ragnvindr x reader

warnings: none, just fluff, diluc just raising my standards higher by the second.

happy birthday, mr husband. thank you for making me simp so hard that i can't even concentrate on studying for my semester exams tomorrow. WHAT IS THAT BIRTHDAY ART?! IT'S ILLEGAL.

the whole of mondstadt witnessed how their uncrowned king fell in love.

for them, it was like watching a romance movie, seeing how the main character slowly changed, bit by bit.

at first, the glance that was directed at you was of indifference, diluc just noting what drink you wanted as you stuttered it out from beside lisa, pushing your drink towards you before tending to another customer.

then was the look that showed acknowledgement when lisa introduced you as a junior from sumeru, who came to mondstadt to work under her. all he did was nod, sparing you a glance. nothing more, nothing less.

the next change in the way he looked towards you was something a lot of people noticed, but only one witnessed. the way he looked and acknowledged you with respect everytime you passed him, giving a small nod whenever your gazes met. the reason will always remain a mystery to the people of the city of freedom.

not to a certain cat allergic archon, though. he did not mean to pry, but who in their right mind would ignore a scene that played straight out of a novel when you happened to stumble upon it? not him, definitely.

so he watched, slowly sipping from his bottle as you patched the cat that diluc was holding, eyes blown wide with panic but hands as steady a mountain. he did not know what happened before, but it wasn't hard to guess.

though, even the bard wasn't so nosy as to look on when diluc's gaze shifted from the cat to you.

the change from respect to adoration was gradual, but not subtle by any means.

the more the time the two of you spent together, the stronger the gaze grew. it still held the respect from before, but the adoration just settled in alongside it, never to leave.

it was kaeya who got to witness the addition of absolute tenderness in his brother's eyes. he was heading back towards his quarters after a stroll with sister rosaria, that's when he noticed you both, lost in each other's embrace. so much so that even as a drunkard passed you, loudly singing, neither of you even showed a sign of breaking the hug.

the tenderness directed towards you when the hug finally broke sent kaeya back to his childhood, when his big brother had almost the same look but directed towards him. that was when he knew that the dark knight hero did not have any plans to let you go.

affection that made it's way into the eyes of the eldest son of ragnvindr was what adelinde noticed first.

the night was cold, strong winds and heavy rain hit mondstadt. she was waiting for the winery's master to come back, towel ready in hand.

soon enough, he did return but with his hand clutching onto a figure behind him, both panting heavily as their clothes dripped the water down onto the carpet.

ever the gentleman, diluc thanked her politely before grabbing the towel from her hands and leading you towards the fireplace, making you sit in front of it while drying your hair with the towel in his hands.

the head maid was about to leave but the look in her young master's eyes made her feet freeze to the ground, heart fluttering as she witnessed them shine after almost 4 years.

adelinde hoped with all her heart that you would never leave the red haired man behind before she strolled back to her bedroom.

the love that spread into his gaze was for only you to witness.

love that sent your head reeling as soon you your eyes fluttered open, still in his embrace as he slowly cupped your cheek. the small, soft smile that settled onto his face was enough to send your heart into a rampage, feeling both as if you're drowning but also as if the you took a breath of the most fresh air this world possibly had to offer, simultaneously.

the chuckle that left him when you cuddled into his embrace, hiding your face in his chest, did not make it any better.

your situation only worsened when he pressed a sweet kiss onto your head and pulled you closer, whispering;

'wish i could stay like this forever.'

this man was a hazard to your heart.

©2023 by seineko @ tumblr

[iwillpissyourpants]

A new life?

Welcome to Part 8

Y'all I have no excuse for taking 2 whole years to continue this. Well I'm back at it again now at least.

If you have not read Part 1, Click here to go read it! Links to the previous and consecutive chapters will be linked at the end of each chapter :)

Contains: Angst, blood warning (nothing major) Diluc has sleep issues now.

Gender neutral reader, not named, "You/Your" pronouns used.

Overview: Adelinde has always stood in as a mother for Diluc, she's always been there for him, but now? She has no idea how to help him...

The manor has not been the same since you left.

The place feels cold. As though not one soul resides inside any longer. As though the owners had not been back for a long time.

And the truth is? They haven’t. Not really.

Seeing Master Diluc around the winery was always a common sight, but as of late, seeing the man inside the manor itself has become a rarity. Spending his days working at the tavern and the resigning to his office on the top floor of the building for the afternoon for any further business. Come sundown, he takes up his crimson claymore and disappears into the night in lieu of coming home.

Home…

The halls that were once aloft with your lilting voice now ring with the silence, the rooms you once spent your days in grow dust ridden from disuse no matter how often they are cleaned. Your and Diluc’s once shared bedroom no longer lived in, the bed growing ever colder.

Even now, as Adelinde and the young maids walk, their footsteps echoing throughout the building the only sound to be heard.

Eerie. quiet. empty. She cant help remember that the last time the winery had been this quiet was when Master Crepus had passed, and the young master Diluc inherited his family’s manor. The very air had bled with grief, guilt and betrayal, and it had seeped into the walls at the time, making the hallways stifling to pass through.

It had felt like treading icy dark waters far out to sea with nowhere to grant solace from the chill and despair that seeped into your bones and threatened to drag you under the surface with its weight.

But there you were. A lighthouse in the darkness, a beckoning promise for safety from the storms that plagued Diluc so. He had been drowning, but you were there by his side, like a breath of fresh air for him to cling to when he needed it.

You brought warmth and comfort wherever you went. You were the one that made this place a home again, gently attempting to mend the broken rifts between brothers and friends. Your patient and caring hands always tending to your beloved and your smile never failing to brighten even the rainiest of days.

You made this manor a home…

But it has not felt like a home for any of the manors residents since your disappearance. Especially to Master Diluc, that much she can see even with how well the man hides it. To the citizens, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt was known to be, albeit a gentleman, aloof and reserved. Apathetic even.

But Adelinde knew him better than that.

She has known Diluc as a mother would a son. She watched the boy grow up and had seen the changes in his temperament over time, had learned his mannerisms and quirks, and had watched his grief spiral as he lashed out in anger. The self-blaming and loss of faith in what he was taught to believe had sent him into a darkness he could not navigate. Many saw his anger, but few saw how all-consuming it was, let alone how much of it was directed at himself…

You were one of those few. And you were one of the few people, if not the only person, he allowed to see those vulnerable parts of him, shedding the armor around his heart for you to see the damage it had endured. You had led him as a lighthouse would a ship, warning it away from crashing against the jagged rocks of the shore and instead leading it back home.

And now again, she can see the ever present storm raging under his skin once more. You were once his lighthouse, and Adelinde can see, now that you are gone, he is lost at sea again. And he blames himself for all of it.

Adelinde, who typically knew how to navigate him through difficult times, finds herself just as lost as to how to help him. A small sigh leaves her, drooping her shoulders as her steps slow and her gaze wanders to the window. Past the glass a shock of red can be seen ambling through the rows of grapevines. Even from a distance, his movements seem robotic as he inspects the fruit-filled baskets before moving on to the next row.

Adelinde is one of the few who truly knows of the existence of the concern that has settled and pricks like needles under Diluc’s skin. She remembers vividly that first week after you were last seen, how the weight of realization had dropped onto his shoulders and how he had to hold in his fear. And like a champagne bottle that was shaken a little too much, once he had been left to his own thoughts after your family hounded him, accusing him, blaming him for your disappearance, it all bubbled over.

She remembers her warped reflection in the broken mirror as she burst through the bathroom door. Remembers the red droplets falling from broken skin, fat droplets painting the floor slick with crimson. She could still smell the salves she had applied to Diluc’s knuckles and how it had reminded her of simpler times where the only wounds she had to tend to were the scraped knees of the young brothers.

Adelinde shook herself from her melancholic thoughts.

Grieving times past will only make the present that much more bitter.

Bitter thoughts wont help Master Diluc.

Bitter thoughts wont bring you back…

With an intake of breath and pursed lips, Adelinde continues down the hallway after the other maids.

Diluc had been walking these streets all his life. In the time he has been alive, he had seen the walkways and steps in many different stages.

He had seen them bustling and music filled, with flower garlands strung on the awnings of buildings, wherever there wasn't a bard with a crowd, there was a merchant hawking their wares.

He had seen them filled with parades and dancing, and had seen them filled with people running in panic as disasters struck. There were times when those people were walking clad in black and in mourning, joining funerary processions for their loved ones.

Then… there were times like this.

The sun had sunk past the horizon many hours ago, and the city’s denizens had long since snuffed out the lights in their homes and closed the shutters.

A lull fell over the streets as the whole world seemed to fall asleep.

He always loved this silence.

No expectations held over him, no one to tell him what he should do and no one he felt he needed be guarded against, to pretend to be someone he wasn't.

After his father died…

After the Knights of Favonius showed that they were nothing but gilded jesters…

And after what happened with Kaeya… It had changed.

The quiet lull that evening brought became the backdrop for him to dole out justice that no one else would do.

He had started dirtying his hands so much, he believed there was a layer of grime on his skin that no amount of scrubbing could ever get off…

He remembers how he disappeared for so long, his newly acquired vision left behind, on a mission to hunt the bastards that had caused the stone to start rolling. That had started the cycle of pain he got caught in…

He cant help but feel that this hopelessness he feels now in the present day is the same as you felt when you had sought him out to comfort him, only to find no trace of him. No warning that he would leave. No word on whether he was alive or not, or if he would ever return from whatever journey he had undertaken.

He is sure this is how you felt.

Back then, you had no way of searching for him. But him? Now? He had reliable sources for intel and had… friends who were good at finding people. But no one can find anything.

To be honest he was… amazed… that you had managed to avoid even his most reliable scouts. Though to be fair, he had unintentionally made it easy for you. The knowledge of the identities of his agents and moles were only shared on a need-to-know basis, and well… He believed you needed to know.

Should there have been a time he could not protect you, you would know who you could trust. But now? You knew who to avoid, what locales and neighborhoods to stay away from in each nation to avoid ever being found.

Diluc couldn’t help but smile bitterly, feeling proud of you. You had learned from him how to erase your tracks, how to believably forge a new identity, how to avoid being found by people you didn’t want to be found by.

He just never thought he would be one of those people…

The inhabitants of Mondstadt had stopped looking for you a while ago already, your missing posters long covered up by adverts and promotions. Those in Mond that even remembers you ever existed believed you to be dead. Your family still had their hopes, but they strangely stopped looking too.

And him? He still believed you were alive.

And he still hadn't stopped trying to look for you.

If you had died, surely they would have found your body by now.

If you were alive, wouldn’t they have found you by now?

He sucks in a breath through gritted teeth.

No… no you’re still alive.

He is sure of it.

You were smart, with a good head on your shoulders. Recklessness was not something you were prone to-

No? As though you running away overnight with no plan from the only city you have ever lived in wasn’t reckless.

He shook himself, feeling guilty at that thought.

Ultimately, he understands why you left. He knew your family well enough to know they weren’t the kindest people, and he had heard the rumors that were spread about you by the very people who you had once called friends. And it was his fault.

He could have done everything differently. He was trying to protect you, but he could not help but think, what if?

What if he did tell you the truth? You would have stayed, he knew that much, and you would have been placed right in the line of danger, yes, but you would still be here. He could have moved you both temporarily to live inside the fortified city’s walls.

He could have simply done anything else.

He could have protected you better if you were by his side, but now…

You were so far from his reach and he wasn't fully sure you were even safe.

And it was all his fault...

The cobblestones underfoot scraped against the soles of his boots.

Mondstadt is quiet tonight.

It had been almost every night.

Especially since he had been out every dark evening, working and fighting seemingly tirelessly. Every monster and bandit camp within a half-day’s horse ride of the city had been wiped out, and that status has been maintained diligently, much to the dismay of some of the more bellicose adventurers who now are stuck receiving their favored combat-based commissions much farther out into the wilderness, and much to his own dismay, they would come to the tavern and complain about it. Loudly and drunkenly.

If only these loud-mouthed drunken adventurers knew the man serving their drinks was the one stealing away their would-be commissions.

That was his routine. Doing his daily duties as the renowned wine tycoon, staying in his office, then going out.

If someone in the know asked, he would simply say he is doing his service to the city, keeping the people safe as always. But truly, he was subconsciously hoping to chance upon any sign of you or indication that you had been in the area whatsoever.

…He tries to sleep, he really does. He knows he must be rested to do what he must reliably.

Its just that sleep evades him, mind instead bursting at the seams with concern and his unconscious thoughts running rampant.

His mind is his true enemy in those moments.

Every time he closes his eyes, he is haunted by pale imitations of you.

His imagination conjuring visions of your body broken, bruised and bloody.

Sometimes he sees you in the snowy tundra, your skin stiff and frostbitten…

For someone who has seen as much death as he has, he can only laugh bitterly at himself for how many different deaths he’d dreamt of you succumbing to.

So instead of sleeping he does this.

When he isn’t surveying or stalking his prey, he walks the cobbled, dimly lit streets and alleyways until he is so exhausted he collapses and sleeps dreamlessly when he gets back to the office in his tavern.

Often times the walls of the city buildings feel like they’re closing in, crushing and suffocating him. Times like these are what drives him out of the city, but tonight feels… different.

At times like this he remembers how alone he is.

Behind those walls are happy families, friends and lovers, all sleeping safely and peacefully without any feelings of guilt or grief to plague their rest….

Diluc’s shoulder hits the wall of the alley as he stumbles and sucks in a deep breath and feels the blurred and dark edges of his vision clear. He hadn’t even noticed he had stopped breathing.

He rubs his leather-clad hand over his tired eyes, wiping away the wetness in his lashes as he steadies himself.

Maybe he should try to sleep…

His breath hitches painfully as he thinks of the possibility of dreaming of finding your corpse again.

...Maybe sleep isn't a good idea...

previous / next

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[sunvylovebug]

Love garden

↬ Warnings: No warnings …⁠ᘛ⁠⁐̤⁠ᕐ⁠ᐷ

↬ Female!Reader and person narration (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

↬ Author Note: I love Diluc<3 I've written some other stuff with Genshin characters, you can check it out on my profile if you're interested<3

↬ Summary: The uncrowned king of Mondstadt has begun to develop feelings for his childhood friend.

↬ Word Count: 1,003 Words

Since childhood, Y/N and Diluc had been inseparable. They grew up together in Mondstadt, sharing games, secrets and adventures in every corner of the city. Their friendship was as solid as iron, forged by years of laughter and loyalty, of promises and memories, of good and bad times together, little adventures and tons of love and care for each other.

As time went by, they both had to take separate ways, separating for a while, but even after so long their hearts were still connected, it was impossible to break a connection that had prevailed alive for so many years after all.

While Diluc, after years of being away from the nation, assumed his role as the owner of the Dawn Winery in the mornings and the enigmatic, mysterious and heroic Dark Knight Hero of Mondstadt in the evenings, Y/N found her own purpose after studying at the Akademiya of Sumeru, returning to Mondstadt to tend to a small garden that had been built in the heart of the city.

One day, while Y/N was in her garden arranging the flowers and making sure everything was in order, Diluc appeared unexpectedly. Although his face showed a serious expression, there was a soft intensity in his eyes that Y/N had not seen in a long time. "Y/N, I've been thinking about you." Diluc said, slowly approaching. "Can I stay with you for a moment?"

Y/N looked at him with curiosity and a slight smile on her lips. The garden had always been her place of peace, the place where everything seemed more pleasant, more simple and peaceful, Diluc's presence made it even more special. "Of course, Diluc. You're always welcome here."

He sat near her, on a small bench of the place, watching how she worked with delicacy and mastery on her plants, she already had a good time taking care of this place. A pleasant silence formed between them, interrupted only by the occasional birdsong and the soft rustling of the leaves as they moved in the wind.

"You know..." He began to say in a thoughtful tone. "Sometimes when I see the flowers here, they remind me of what we've shared since we were children, the days in my father's garden, the sunny days where we played hide and seek with Kaeya or Jean, or when we'd go looking for bugs and flowers with you... The times when as children, everything seemed simpler."

She looked up from the flowers, looking at him with a mixture of surprise and affection. They didn't usually talk about their feelings this way, but she felt there was something different about the way Diluc was acting.

"Kinda funny..." She said with a soft smile. "Maybe it's weird for me to say it like this but I've always thought that this garden is like a reflection of various connections I have with people, especially our friendship. I take great care of it cause it means a lot to me, as you do too, Diluc."

He was silent, but his eyes shone with an intensity that Y/N couldn't ignore. Finally, he leaned a little closer. "Y/N, there is something I need to tell you." He began, his voice filled with an unusual vulnerability. "How I've felt about you has changed over time. You're not only my friend, but someone I truly appreciate more than I could ever put into words. You are a beautiful girl, you are strong and honest, you are charismatic and kind, you are sweet and brave... I could spend all day talking about how I see you... but I'm scared, I don't wanna lose you because of the things I feel for you."

Her stomach flipped over, she felt her heart beating faster, her cheeks flushing as she listened to Diluc's heartfelt words. She wasn't sure how to respond, but the sincerity in his voice moved her deeply.

"Diluc, I've felt something special for you too, for a while now..." Admitted Y/N in a trembling voice. "But I- I didn't know how to tell you. I was afraid it might ruin our friendship."

Diluc smiled, a gleam of relief in his eyes. "You don't have to fear that, Y/N. What I feel for you has grown over time and I think it's something worth feeling together, if you'll allow me."

With a gesture full of tenderness Diluc took Y/N's hand, looking at her warm and comforting eyes with an expression that blended love and affection that became overwhelming to the young woman's melting heart.

"Let me show you how special you are to me, not only as a friend with whom I have spent countless moments together, adventures and good times, but as someone I wish to protect, care for and love as long as you and life will allow me to."

With her heart overwhelmed with emotion, she nodded slowly, looking into his eyes, nervous and excited by his words. Her trust in Diluc and the love she felt for him came together in a moment of pure connection. "I'd love to do the same, Diluc."

He ran a hand around her waist with a gentle smile and a soft shade of pink on his cheeks. He held her chin with his gloved hand and looked down at her. "May I?"

It was the happiest day for both of them. She felt like she would faint soon from so much emotion her heart was feeling, she nodded shyly and it was then that Diluc brought their lips together gently, a tender kiss full of the love and affection they felt for each other.

From that day on, the garden became an even more meaningful place for them, a place to spend time together and create many memories.

Each visit was a mixture of laughter and intimate moments, as Diluc strove to show his devotion and affection in every gesture and action. Through the seasons, through time and through life's changes, their new relationship blossomed so beautifully, just as the flowers did in Y/N's garden.

[mermaid-trash]

Genshin Pyro Men - Jealousy, Jealousy

Lyney x fem!reader, Diluc x gn!reader

a/n: omg hiii it's been a while lmaooo, so I started writing these as an exercise to get rid of my writer's block and I kinda like them? so anyway here they are, sorry to Thoma enjoyers but idk how to write for him so this is just Lyney and Diluc (fem!reader for lyney bc of stupid french gendered language smh)

btw, I've been thinking of writing some BSD headcanons/scenarios like this, lmk if that's something you would like to see

Lyney

The famous magician had never expected himself to be a particularly jealous lover…protective, yes, but he never anticipated that seeing you flash that perfect smile at another man would cause such fury to boil in his chest.

For a brief moment, Lyney is no different than any other Fatui agent, planning the demise of a target. His gaze hardens and the careful smile falls from his lips, until he feels his sister's concerned stare burning into his temple.

"Careful, brother." She murmurs, her hand closing around his wrist and grounding his thoughts. "You're smarter than that."

He knows his sister is right, as always, so he settles instead for his second impulse; showmanship. With a forced smile intended to settle Lynette's worries, he disappears into the crowd and appears by your side in typical Lyney fashion, his arm coiling slyly around your waist and pulling you into his side. Just where you belong, he thinks.

"Ma chérie, I've been looking for you everywhere," he simpers, his tone sickly sweet as he presses butterfly kisses to your cheek and ignores the stranger glaring at him, "what could possibly be so important that it keeps you from me, hmm?"

You begin to speak and Lyney thinks you might be introducing him to the stranger, but he's too focused on the curve of your lips to comprehend the words coming from them. Luckily, it doesn't take long for the man to take the hint, and when he finally departs Lyney tugs you even closer, until your chest is pressed flush against his.

"I never thought I'd see Lyney the great magician jealous." You tease, and he raises your hand to press a soft kiss to your knuckles, sending you a mischievous look through his lashes as he does.

"Can you really blame me, mon amour? I would be a fool to let you slip away from me."

Diluc

The uncrowned king of Mondstadt is far too secure in himself to display any jealous tendencies…or at least, that's what he tells himself. Truthfully, the looks you often get from other men in the city makes his blood run even hotter than usual.

Thankfully, being Diluc comes with privileges, such as the ability to scare off any pursuers with little more than a harsh glare in their direction; no one in Mondstadt would be stupid enough to compete with him. Except, that is, for his brother.

He knows Kaeya is trying to get under his skin, but that doesn't mean it isn't working. The way his arm is slung over your shoulders and the crooked smirks Kaeya keeps sending him from across the bar have Diluc's shoulders feeling tense, his breathing a little heavier than usual.

He hears the sound of your voice but can't make out the words, and then Kaeya laughs heartily and, to Diluc's horror, begins to lean in as though to kiss you. Diluc moves as quickly as he can, appearing beside your booth with a scowl just as Kaeya's hand closes around his half-empty glass across the table, and he settles back into his seat, still smirking.

"Ah, brother," Kaeya says, and only then do you notice his arrival. His heart feels lighter when he notices your face light up, but he refuses to show it in front of Kaeya, knowing it would only fuel his teasing. "to what do we owe the pleasure?"

"Out." Diluc responds, the word coming out gruff. Kaeya chuckles knowingly, but makes no movement to leave. Your bewildered stare flickers between the two of them, clearly oblivious to Kaeya's intentions.

"Really, Diluc? You wouldn't throw out a paying customer this early into the night, would you?" The lilt of Kaeya's voice grates on Diluc's nerves, and his scowl deepens.

"Out, now." Diluc refuses to elaborate, and finally Kaeya stands, hands raised in surrender, and moves towards the door with a victorious smile and an annoying swagger. When the door closes behind him, Diluc releases a heavy sigh and turns his attention to you, the frown on his brow softening as he takes in your look of shock.

"My apologies, love. Why don't you come and sit at the bar? I'll fix you another drink."

[darknights-beloved]

an artist's obsession

cw; implied fem reader , artist! reader, subtle romance subtle mutual pining ,, fluff / comfort ,, hints of affection ,, reader obsessed with drawing Diluc ,, no explicit mention of romantic feelings being involved.

synopsis; as an artist, illustrating the beauty of the world or capturing the surreal vision of your mind's eye is your favored way of appreciating something or even learning from it. so it only made sense why the uncrowned king of mondstadt had consumed your mind. (reposted.)

"How much longer do I have to stand in this position again?"

this was...the third time he asked, and the second time you ignored him. Your fingers working diligently against the sheets of paper, eyes glued to the image you were recreating- only glancing up at him when you needed to refresh your memory.

while you sit underneath the tree of Windrise, a faint smile at your lips, he stood in front of your view. Standing, his legs was slightly apart and his arms were crossed tightly against his chest.

it was a simple stroll at first, and...

honestly, he just happened to stand in that specific spot, where the sunshine was beaming upon his red hair, lighting it perfectly. And his facial features, basking in the sunlight, showing off its beauty. You couldn't resist snatching your sketchbook as if your life depended on it and simply capturing this moment.

and that's where...this has got him.

"Y/n." He warned, whilst at the same time trying to lighten his frown a bit though both of you knew that since it was you who was keeping him like this- he would tolerate it.

You lowered your artbook back down onto your lap, pencil hand resting beside it. You looked at the grumpy winery owner. Well....not so grumpy when he sees you smile again.

"hmm.." you mused, looking at him up and down which caused the most subtle blush to adorn his cheeks. Ah, a little detail you can add to your masterpiece..

You sighed dramatically and held your book again, your fingers automatically going back on work mode. "Maybe for the next...several days.."

Diluc shoots you what was supposed to be a death glare, but it has the tiniest hint of playfulness in it, and you didn't miss it when you glanced up at his figure once more.

"oh, just-" you rolled your eyes and spoke in a somewhat mindless manner, your focus mainly being on his portrait. "it's only been like 20 minutes or something."

"No, it has not 'only been like 20 minutes', it's atleast been 3 hours." he corrected, now it was his turn to roll his eyes- but he suppressed to do just that.

"I said 'or something' too, y'know!!' you retorted playfully, pouting a bit as you look up at him once more. And somehow your breath caught in your throat...even when he seemed slightly irritated or annoyed- he was still good looking. Maybe even more, but you couldn't tell for sure.

He huffed in response but seeing you look at him with those innocent, adoring doe eyes never fails to soften his normally stiff and cold expressions. He did not complain about that. If he got to see you happy and appreciative, it made any and every effort worth it.

a slight smile tugged at his lips, he really couldn't help but find it amusing. "i swear.." he paused, taking one good look at you again who was still stuck in your trance "you're so...wrapped up in whatever it is you are planning to do with my portrayal that you haven't even noticed the sun going down."

seeing you didn't respond, he merely raised a brow. "Well?"

you snapped out of it and shook your head apologetically, a small smile forming on your face again.

"...oh it is? My bad." you chuckled as you looked in the direction of the sun, and it was indeed setting. No wonder the lighting changed. You look back at the man, he was still standing.

"alright, alright. I wont keep you like that for any longer." you pat the spot next to you, looking back at your book. Seems like you had no plans of leaving soon...what a troublesome little thing you were.

He let out a heavy sigh, it was good to stretch a bit after all that time. He'd think back a bit as he reluctantly walked towards you. Think how his past self would laugh at how obliging he's being at your silly requests. He was no time waster. He still believed in that fact. But when it comes to you...sigh, at this point he's admitted the same thing too many times.

"...thank you" he muttered softly as he sat next to you, seemingly avoiding any eye contact. well, not like you'd see anyway since you were focused on finalizing the details of the drawing. He took a peek at your drawings. And- how much of him did you manage to fit into one page already? Each one a different art style, and he felt proud of you for finishing so much in a day. Did he truly boost you with this much with inspiration? He hoped so. And with the papers being ever so slightly translucent, he could also tell from the subtle marks that you had also freshly covered the previous pages with....well, him.

as much as he was pleased by the fact that you found him fascinating, he felt a twinge of concern and it showed it his eyes. "Y/n...you need a rest too, doesn't....your hand hurt..?"

Looking at the redhead, you raised a brow at his obvious concern, letting out a faint chuckle- to which he then looks confused by.

But it was the sudden action that made him flinch. It was impulsive-yes -but genuine. You, out of the blue, wrapped an arm around his neck, his head almost bumping clumsily into your shoulder as you made him lean on you slightly. He could also rest better like this, you justified with the rational part of your mind.

"but I'm not done drawing you" was your answer, stubborn as always. "probably never will be."

truthfully though, he couldn't even register your words properly. He was way too painfully aware of the bright blush on his cheeks and ears. Oh, and his neck. He couldn't even bring himself to swallow the lump in his throat and only hoped his bangs would do the little favor of covering a bit of his flushed face for him. You were full of surprises sometimes, and that could be heart fluttering.

your melodic giggles flustered him even more, but only then did he regain a somewhat steady state of mind. "you know.." he mumbled, trying to remain composed. "that doesn't exactly count as a reaso-"

"Hush." you quickly cut him off, gently guiding his head to rest on your shoulder. He grumbled a bit at your persistence, though it only added to your amusement.

Surprisingly, for once, he allowed himself to lay his head on it, albeit hesitantly. And once he did, you smiled to yourself. "now you wanted to rest, remember? so rest....besides, my hand refuses to hurt when it comes to drawing you."

"..."

and with that, you went back to, what was it again?- ah yes! finalizing the details, you reminded yourself. Before he could say anything, your pencil was already steady in one hand while your other hand was resting atop his hand comfortingly. Book, remained in your lap. The most gentle breeze in the air, keeping the moment refreshed.

this was peaceful.

He shook his head, adjusting himself a bit more comfortably for you both. It's the second time he's surprising you when he protectively wraps an arm around your waist, subtly bringing you closer to him. His gaze looked focused, but soon you can detect the revealing sleepiness in it. Because no matter how unrevealing he may or may not seem, he always and always found solace in moments like these.

admitting it deep down to his heart, unaware of the way your heart fluttered and you blushed at his actions, he's able to close his eyes. Finding a sense of relief in the moment. He tightened the grip he's kept on you- gently, tenderly.

and the faintest murmur leaves his lips as he keeps you in his embrace.

"...so this is what they call an artist's obsession."

all rights reserved @eroxotckv @dcrkn1ght

a/n: as an artist, drawing Diluc, is my main inspiration. This little fic originated from my oc {or little self ship} Zephrose, who wouldn't draw any other non-fictional human beings except for Diluc. Maybe she's biased, idk..

dividers @rookthornesartistry

[sheep-from-rad]

Stay with me, Sway with me ♡  (SAGAU) Note: This song, I love this so much. This is a request by @mehhiah, sorry it took me so long to tackle this one. Also please, if you have requests put it in the ask box so I can easily see it (also priv messages scares me sorry). Anyway, I’m absolutely involved with this song, I hope you guys enjoy it! LASTLY, MY REQUESTS ARE CURRENTLY CLOSED. Warnings: Semi-ooc (?), Prince Kaeya theory (I really love that one so I added it), bullet type, semi-yandere-ish [Masterlist 1] , [Masterlist 2]

Ever since the traveler breaks the wall that separates their lives from the dark reality about them being trapped in a game, music together with other factors has been a part of everyone’s lives. It’s not uncommon for foreign sounding music to be played everywhere, even in churches. Traveler songs being played together with new ones, old ones getting mixed up and rewritten to fit the new ones. While aware, sometimes you just forget that they are indeed alive and can interact with you. 

    You held the broom in your hands, pressing it close to your chest imagining a microphone, the ones that you can see at concerts and live bars. You put on your headphones, eyes fixated on the task of cleaning your room before the holiday ends. “When Marimba rhythm starts to play…” 

Diluc pretends like he’s not paying attention to the song that you are currently singing. It’s not the same as the songs that he is used to hearing both from the locals and from the Bard god. It has a sensual tone on it and it bears an air of refinery that reminds him of the fallen aristocrats Mondstadts used to have. He doesn’t care about crowns and wealth but being named as an uncrowned king, he can’t help but imagine the two of us dancing in such a song. In, in his arms at the after hours of the tavern to the early hours of dawn. Maybe he’ll steal a kiss or two, that if you let him to. 

Kaeya was having a late night drink when he heard the song that you are singing. It reminds him of that time he and Rosaria got so drunk they decided to climb Albedo’s laboratory but ended up watching Eula dance in the frozen waters (she chased them afterwards and chased them at work). Nobles sure love their fancy dances and he was not safe from Crepus’s dancing lessons as well. He can imagine the two of you dancing in the empty, semi-dim ballroom. Just the two of you, with the rich robes on your body and crown on his head. If he can’t run from his fate, he might just go embrace it if it means embracing you as his own. 

Venti writes a song while he listens to you sing. He is so used to the songs of praise or song of tales but a song that tells about desire is something that is new to his ear. Serenades to exist in Teyvat but they don’t go as far as to tell the most intimate desires. They only go on the surface and barely scratch the realm of what love is supposed to feel. Tomorrow comes the musical revolution and for sure everyone who hears the song of the night will make something of the same liking. He hopes that before you descend, he will be able to write the best song that describes his whole heart. 

Ayato finds himself a little flustered by the song. Inazuma just opened again a long time ago and the only references that he has on such subjects are those written by the locals and tales of his workers. It is safe to say that Inazuma is still in the age of conservatism even though it is now slowly advancing to be able to walk at the same pace as the other nations. He can’t help but stand up and away from his work, thinking about the lyrics of the song over and over. Bards sing about their feelings and poets make poems about the things that entices their feelings, does it mean you want someone to hold you close and bend you on the dancefloor? If so, he wants to be the one to do it. 

Alhaitham was taking notes. Dances are not uncommon in Sumeru but it is also not something practiced freely until the traitorous sages fell from their thrones. Dances and arts in general are still in their toddler days and he is glad that they get references from other nations. He notes the song being sensual, a type of song that only sang on weddings or intimate dates. The type of dance that he wants to share with you. To pull you by the hand and cradle your head possessively while he glare at everyone who wants to get close. It’s not like he’s gonna let someone get close to you. Not the traveler, not the sages, and definitely not Kaveh. That or, maybe he’ll let Kaveh join in

Taglist! @tinandabin | @chihawari |@eccedentesiast-sapphic @jaxielous |@uchihaeirin |@zuri-feather

[lemonykoo]

let me get my husband for you! - diluc

Pairing: Husband!Diluc x Wife!Reader

Genre: Fluff! Female reader.

Word Count: 1.4k

Notes: You decided to visit Diluc at the tavern as he worked – somewhat a rare occasion – and a new Mondstadt resident has to learn the hard way that you’re not available. Warnings: guys are weird lmao and they say out of pocket things sometimes (also the ending sucks lmao)

It was a typical night at Angel’s Share tavern. It was definitely busy, as expected from a weekend with many of the knights and guild members coming in and out after a long day of work, as the same with regular citizens as well. It wasn’t even close to closing, so everyone was loud and in good spirits and drinks were handed out by, what seemed like, the dozen. You were one of those patrons, though you didn’t exactly spend all day fighting off hilichurls or taking care of problems that were more of a topic for the knights. Much like your husband, you yourself was somewhat of a business owner as you had taken on your parent’s family business that had, of course, been handed down to them many years ago. Today was busy for you, as you had to get up early and deal with meetings and other tasks all day long. With that being said, you also needed a breather from the stress of the day! Not only that, but you hadn’t seen Diluc at all today except for when you two departed in the morning, so you just couldn’t wait until late tonight to see your handsome husband. While you weren’t usually one for loud drunks or even alcohol itself, you did make rare appearances in the tavern just to surprise your husband and say a few hellos to people you knew that frequented the establishment. And even if you didn’t know many of the customers personally, they all knew you as the tavern owner’s wife – or better yet, just that you were married to the Diluc Ragnvinder – so a spot at the bar would be cleared just for you, no questions asked. So when you walked in tonight, your nice clothes still on from your earlier meetings, a barstool that had once been occupied by a member of the Adventurer’s Guild opened up with your name written all over it.

You’d always start off with a glass of wine and it would always been the finest (and on the house) because Diluc would always been delighted to see you. (The shine in his eyes and warm smile would always make an appearance as soon as he noticed you.) Even if he couldn’t always talk to you since he was busy, having your presence was enough. You’d normally chat with someone else, like Rosaria who was seated next to you tonight, so you weren’t alone or just awkwardly sitting and waiting for your husband to find the time to say something to you. And in hindsight, you guess that was why newcomers didn’t always catch on that you and the winery owner were married. The drink he’d slide over to you could just be because you were a frequent customer, right? At least, that’s what the guy that sat on the other side of you thought, because once he saw an opportunity pop up, he struck up a conversation with you.

“I don’t normally see a pretty lady like you in here alone,” he greeted, drawing your attention away from your friend on your other side.

To be fair, you knew it was best to not play along with these people. However, when your husband was just across the bar, lost in his own world of serving and cleaning, you couldn’t help it. After all, it was a little amusing to see the looks on people’s faces when they realized that not only were you already taken, but you were taken by the uncrowned king of Mondstadt. “Well, I decided it was time to finally make an appearance here,” you joked, your voice a little louder than normal so the man could hear you over the other rowdy patrons. You would never explicitly flirt with them or lead them on, but instead answer their questions and engage in what little chit-chat you could before having to play a damsel in distress and have your husband make them aware that you weren’t available. (As if the wedding ring on your finger didn’t already say that, but who was paying attention to it, anyways?)

“Let me guess,” the guy started, very obviously checking you out before smirking. You could tell he was already teetering on the edge of being completely drunk. “Your husband’s out of town? Because any guy with you would be smart enough to keep you at home, ya know?”

You looked off in feign thought, humming. “I’m not sure I do know, actually. Enlighten me.”

He smirked. “Well, obviously. You’re beautiful so every guy is going to want you. Or, are you trying to get away from him? That’s it, isn’t it?” He took a sip from his glass before gesturing toward yours. “Let me buy you drink.”

“Oh, no thank you, I haven’t even finished this one,” you said, showing how your cup had over half still. Besides, even if it was close to being empty, you could only manage about one full glass before becoming a bit too tipsy yourself.

“Listen,” he stated, turning more toward you. “I’d be more than willing to let you out of whatever situation your old man at home has got you tied up in, whether it be for tonight-” he hiccupped, “- or for however long you want it to be. In fact, if you want me to tell him how it isn’t fair that he’s not letting you get out and let yourself go as a pretty lady like you should, I will!”

“You will?” you asked, placing a hand to your chest, giving him a kind smile. “That’s so kind of you. Actually, my husband is here tonight.”

The guy blinked before quickly looking around. “Really?” he asked, his eyes returning to yours. “Well, point him out to me and I’ll give him a piece of my mind and then you and me can have a great night together.”

You smiled bigger, your eyes twinkling. You could feel Rosaria giving you confused looks as you faked searching for this mystery husband of yours before exclaiming a silent “oh!” and leaning toward the bar. “Hey, honey! This guy wants to talk to you!”

And this is exactly why you liked being a little meanie and playing with flirts like this. Because as soon as Diluc turned around from his task at hand, a look of question on his face as he made his way over to you to see what was going on, all life seemed to drain from the man that once really wanted to take you out two seconds ago. “What can I do for you?” your husband, who actually treated you very well, asked innocently, unaware of the interaction you had just been having.

“Uh, I just uh, wanted to you tell you that your wine is fantastic. Best wine I’ve ever had, really,” the man lied, his face beginning to turn a shade of red similar to your husband’s hair. “Unfortunately, I think I might have had just a little too much tonight and I have to go home.” Before Diluc could say thanks and wish him a safe return home, the man abruptly slipped out of his seat and took off out the door. The pyro user turned to see you and Rosaria snickering like someone had told you two the best joke in the world. He suddenly caught on and sighed.

“Y/N, you have got stop scaring my customers like that,” he chided, moving to stand more in front of you. He placed his elbows on the countertop and held out his hands for you to take, which you did immediately. It was a little habit you two had whenever Diluc had enough time to talk to you while working. He’d rub his calloused fingers over the soft skin of your knuckles as you two would talk, dreamily gazing into your eyes as if he couldn’t get enough of you (because, really, he couldn’t).

“I’m not scaring them away. I’m sure he’ll be back,” you giggled. “He’ll just know better than to hit on me next time! If I left it up to you, then they would be scared away and there wouldn’t be a next time.”

Well, Diluc couldn’t argue with that logic. In fact, the customers he had gotten onto himself for flirting with you hadn’t been back since. There were only a couple of them, and those time had been when you had gotten a little drunk yourself and weren’t too aware of the intentions of others. Besides, he found it amusing how much enjoyment you got out of showing off your spouse. But, he wouldn’t outright admit to that, of course.

[chigirisprincess]

Is it Better to Speak or to Die? ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

— Lisa Minci

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, dni if you are not sapphic, afab!reader, reader dresses femininely and wears dresses, referred to by gender neutral language but affected by patriarchal norms and gender norms, reader's skin flushes, reader's hair can have fingers thread through it, reader is implied to be a lesbian, Lisa is implied to be a lesbian, side relationship; Lisa and Diluc, Diluc is implied to be gay, compulsory heterosexuality is experienced, homophobia, arranged/forced marriage, emotional affairs, slight age gap (reader is in their early twenties, Lisa is nearly thirty), lost loves, cheating (Lisa and Diluc on each other), implied past Jeanlisa, plot with a smidge of porn, Princess! Lisa is heir to the throne, flirtations, love confessions, angst, hurt with little comfort, making out, scissoring, biting, love as consumption, imagery of cannibalism, desperate sex, reader is implied to lose their virginity, a lot of; jealousy, envy, and misplaced anger, misogyny, men and male characters regarded poorly (including Diluc) in response to sexism and forced relationships, social etiquette, ambiguous threats to life due to treason, House of the Dragon inspired, canon religious beliefs, no happy endings. ⊹ Run time. 22.0k ⊹ Note. This fic is a labour of love, it is my ode to lesbianism, and it is very personal to me. That being said, this is very much an author self-insert fic. The reader is meant to be me, they are meant to encompass my complicated relationship to comphet, lesbianism, and feelings towards men so I suggest you take a very good and long read through the warnings before reading this fic because it is rather heavy in nature despite the few moments of respite. If you do choose to read this I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

❝Brought to court to become the heir to the throne's latest companion, you begin to grapple with the feelings that come with the friendship of a woman like Lisa Minci. There is no halfway with her, it is all consuming or it is nothing—you learn this quickly as you find yourself utterly in love with the princess whose heart belongs to another.❞

There has never been a name for the feeling Lisa found herself so overcome with when around Jean– when with you. She drowns in the terrifying feeling of the unknown, thoughts swirling into a tsunami of confusion when Lisa allows her thoughts to settle on it for too long. It scares her, the feelings that she cannot understand or put a name to, but she speaks soothing words to him as they toe the shores of a cloud shrouded lake– him, Diluc, her future husband. Lisa placates him with delicate words and sympathy when he lays the truth at her feet, his differing tastes. She had known though, they all had. It’s terribly easy to gaze upon another with scrutinizing eyes when the walls whisper tales of longing exchanges shared upon the remnants of Old Mondstadt; the phrase “sword swallower” carelessly thrown around as if it wasn’t a slight against Mondstadt’s uncrowned king. 

Lisa knows nothing, in truth, that much she can admit to herself when she and Diluc sit upon their marriage bed and feign their consummation; spilt wine tarnishing the stark white sheets as teary tendrils roll down his pale cheeks. She had cried too, for herself and for him– a rare occurrence for the two of them.

Then, Lisa didn’t understand their tears, not truly. She knew that Diluc shed tears for the love that could never be his, not when he was hers– the future king consort. Was he anguished by the fate he shackled himself to? Or, had he left behind another to make his father proud and restore the Ragnvindr legacy? Lisa didn’t know. The two had known each other for all of forty-eight hours before their engagement was announced and the grande affair that was to be their wedding took place. She supposed it was the latter with the way his body shook so violently as they stood together at the altar. The crushed dreams of boyhood lay amongst their stained sheets, putrid and vile, a reminder that the happy end he was promised the entirety of his childhood was not so easily afforded but rather a wishful dream that he could not quite shake. He mourned for his lover, the man who so gently cradled his heart and himself; Lisa had not understood it in the slightest.

Love and lust were too often confused, muddled together in the mind of someone who had yet to truly experience both. She was unable to discern between the two.

Lisa knew lust, or she believed she did when she thought of the desire that bloomed between her and Henry Morton, her tutor and then once more with Huffman the stable hand. Though it always seemed to fester into something ugly– disappointment and resentment. No love existed between her and those men, not in the way she wished there would be. Henry coveted her wealth, the crown she was destined to wear, and the knowledge she possessed. He was hungry for the throne he was never meant to be seated upon, starved for the knowledge locked within her mind. Huffman sought absolution within her, pious and pathetic and filled with delusions that sex with her was healing. He believed she could wash away a lifetime of sin as if she was more than simply a woman, made of the same earth and ash that he was.

But, there was no love to be found within their embrace or comfort.

She assumed that Diluc and whoever made him weep so were more of the same, two beings joined together and enraptured by the threads of desire. 

It is then that she realizes she was wrong, that she is not nearly as knowledgeable as she insists herself to be and it terrifies her. Genius was the word that floated around her since her tender youth; her mind had always been the greatest gift that Celestia had bestowed upon her. Without it, she was nothing. She feels that she is nothing that night as she lays in her marriage bed, trembling and lost in thought. No amount of thinly verily excuses could create enough of a mirage to disguise the glaring insecurities and fears that shake her all the way down to her toes.

If a man can love a man just the same as he loves a woman, could she not too? To love a woman the way a man did, it was easy enough to grapple with before she realized that she did not love men the way a woman was supposed to. Henry Morton and Huffman the stablehand were nothing but toys she used to convince herself that she felt nothing at all for Jean in the days before she was whisked away from court by her husband. Tears prickle at the corner of her eyes as her thoughts ceaselessly plague her idle mind. The hurt she feels when she thinks of Jean suddenly is somehow clarified as if before that very moment Lisa was only granted a short glimpse into her true feelings. Betrayal was true heartbreak, simple affection for her dearest friend something else entirely, the very thing her father believed would blossom between her and her new husband as time went on. 

And then she thought of you, a member of the court and her assigned companion— her only true friend now. It’s the lack of feeling she harbours towards Diluc or any man at all that terrifies her and the feeling of far too much for you now that makes her stomach twist in relentless knots the longer she lingers on you.

Her heart stirred, cheeks growing hot despite the brisk evening air that slipped between the cracks of her shuttered window. There was no part of her that would dare entertain an inspection of her feelings for you, too much possibility remained. Where her chapter with Jean stood firmly closed and long buried, yours was open, taunting her the way a predator did its prey. It’s filled with questions and feelings Lisa wasn’t sure she’d ever be strong enough to face, not when yours was the only true company she could relish in while within the stone-cold walls of the castle.

Lisa had lost too much in so little time, she couldn’t bear to lose you too all because she chose to act upon emotions she didn’t fully understand. 

It would be far too tragic but she rationalized as needing all the allies she could.

A queen needed numbers; the future is what ruled over her actions, not the thought of being well and truly alone. When morning had come, whatever thoughts that had plagued her throughout the night had long since been gone, and Lisa was ever the picture of a perfect heiress. Well, that’s what she would like to believe, Lisa has never been perfect in any sort of way and she’s reminded of that when low-ranking nobles and courtiers sneer at her like she’s nothing more than the sum of all her mistakes. If her father had been a cruel man and raised a spiteful daughter she might have thought to have them punished, simply for having the gall. For thousands of years, those who came before her did, sometimes just for the hell of it, and she was sure they would for another thousand years after but Lisa wasn’t cruel nor vengeful.

She was, however, aptly skilled in the art of playacting. 

Lisa offers you a smile when you come to dress her when the pallid morning light just barely encroaches upon the castle. There’s no trace of worry upon her brow, she’s the vision of radiance, wrapped within the sweet blanket of marital bliss. To the untrained eye, she is perfection in its truest form. She is lucky you possess such a lacking, still green in your young years and sheltered upbringing in the countryside. The air of innocence and naivety that shrouded you comforted the princess.

“Beautiful,” you had whispered in her ear, coming to stand behind Lisa so she could gaze upon her reflection, “Master Diluc shall be overcome when he sees you.”

You had said it as though they had not been wed the night before, as if the cat and mouse game of courtship was not yet over even though it had never truly begun. But Lisa grinned all the same, nodding her head in agreement though she knew it was not her that her husband's eyes would be on. Perhaps they’d be cast upon the floor, or they’d be stuck upon the worried picture that's painted across his parent's face, or maybe they’d follow Kaeya’s lithe figure– plagued with a million different worries that tied his stomach up in knots.

“Thank you, darling,” Lisa passively murmurs, her green eyes hazed as she stares at her reflection, “You may go now.”

Your brows furrow for a moment, “But your sheets …” Pressing your hands to her shoulders, you will her eyes to meet yours through the mirror, “Would you not prefer it if I handled them?”

“You are a highborn noble, it would be highly undignified for a genteel such as yourself to do such a thing.”

Her tone was clipped like you’d done something to ruffle her feathers.

“But, your Grace, you know the serving girls will talk,” You say in a hushed tone, “If they see that your … I understand that the act can be daunting, I mean the two of you are little more than strangers … but they shall not be so.”

Lisa knows exactly who you speak of, the vultures of the court, the ones who wait with bated breath for her fall from grace, “What you’re suggesting … you realize that it is treason?”

“Treason, your Grace? I must confess that I do not understand.”

She almost chuckles at you and she might have if she had been a cruel mistress. You poor, sweet summer child, of course, you would not understand the weight of your words. Lisa wished she could reach out to pet your head, to sit you down and explain. You were still so green, still so naive and blinded by the fairytales your governess promised would be your future, even more so than she could have predicted. She could not do that, she was to be queen someday soon. It would make her weak in the eyes of all who wished for her downfall to show too much kindness. Though it made her heart ache uncomfortably, Lisa fixed her mouth into a straight line as she gazed at you through the mirror.

“To suggest that Diluc and I would shirk our duties to produce heirs for our own selfish desires is treasonous,” she grits, sharpening the only swords she was allowed to bear– her words, “You’d do well to remember that the next time you foolishly question the crown.”

“Your Grace, I did not intend to-”

Lisa holds up her hand to silence your ramblings, “I know, so consider this a warning,” she mutters, “Go on, and take a look at the bed.”

Your brows furrow for a moment as you wander deeper into her bedchambers. Amongst the stark white linens lie a splotch of red. It is evidently not blood, the colour is far too rich and the stench of stale wine wafts through the air. It’s a farce, the product of wishful thinking but it is treachery to question her. It is her word against yours, and the words of an heiress held far greater power than that of a lowly Freiherr’s child. It kills her to use her station in such a heinous manner, it’s written within the carefully crafted mask she wears but still, she does it out of duty; duty to the crown, to her marriage, and to the kingdom of Mondstadt. Pressing your lips together you dip your head into an apologetic bow before shuffling over to the door. It’d be unwise to press further.

“My apologies, your Grace, I shall take my leave and allow you to attend to your duties.”

Your shoulders cave inwards and Lisa can’t help but be filled with remorse, “No apologies needed darling,” she says, beckoning you to come closer to her, “I simply did not wish for you to make such a blunder with another, most are not so forgiving.”

The soft morning light bathes the two of you in a pallid glow, the tears that have welled in your eyes catch in the light when you peer up at Lisa. When you’ve stepped within arm's length, Lisa wraps you up in as tight of an embrace as her large hoop skirt allowed, her chin resting on your head as you buried your face into the crook of her shoulder. You smell of peach blossoms and sunsettias, Lisa finds it intoxicating. She doesn’t mean to but when you furrow further into her skin, Lisa allows herself to inhale deeply, relishing in the sweet fragrant plume of perfume that engulfs your frame.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle against her collarbone, “I did not mean it.”

You sob like a child who has just been scolded. However, it’s not the naivety or a certain lingering childishness that has spurred this weepy display. It is fear. Lisa can feel it, your fear, it's there in the way your heart races and thumps wildly enough for her to feel it through her whale-boned corset. You’re weeping for her, for all the implications that still hang precariously in the air between the two of you. Your bleeding heart makes Lisa feel all the more guilty, her gut tangles itself together. She shouldn’t feel such shame for speaking to you the way she was taught to but she does. 

Lisa wishes she could take it back, to soothe you and the ache that seems to plague her whenever you are near. But she cannot turn back the clock and so the feelings she harbours continue to feast on the unknown and morph into a puzzle of labyrinthine complexity. Her head and heart tangle within one another, endlessly. 

“I know,” Lisa mutters, her tone clipped, “Don’t cry, sweetling.”

“But-”

“I have said this to prepare you, life at court is nowhere near as idyllic as life in the countryside, you must learn that, quickly.”

The expression you wear tells Lisa you’d much rather be there than here, attending to her but you’ve bitten your tongue and swallowed back the bitter ale she feeds you– you’re trying to learn. It takes you a moment to school your features down into a look of neutrality, tension still lingers between your brows. You’d be easy to break, your foibles laid splayed across your chest and arms. They adorn you like fools gold, glittering and attracting the eye straight toward your Achilles heel. She could fix that, turn you into a mirror image of her in a matter of days if she tried. Lisa decides then that she shall take you under her wing despite the blaring cries for mercy her heart makes. 

These feelings, they turn her into a dimwitted chit. She used to be a respectable scholar, a genius to most and for some reason she’d rather be enamoured by the fatuous allure of something shiny.

“I am trying your Grace,” you murmur, straightening out your shoulders and attempting to stand tall before her.

“I know.”

Stepping back, Lisa takes your chin between her gloved thumb and forefinger, “But, there is still so much for you to learn, my sweet summer child.”

She sounds like her mother. The intricate lace of elegance meshes with the stern undercurrent of authority that turns every question into a command. It makes you shrink back into your perch, cheeks warming at the word “child”. The very thought of her seeing you like that, a puerile waif instead of the mature courtesan she expected you to be, made your stomach churn painfully. Pressing your lips firmly together you hold back the petulant whine of defence that threatens to crack your prestige. 

“You shall learn from me,” Lisa says, her lips curling up into a smile, “I shall teach how to avoid any number of social blunders and you shall keep me company as you were brought here to.”

Raising one meticulously crafted brow at her, you can’t help but question, “Is that truly what you wish to do?” Your head falls to the side and Lisa’s chest tickles with a thousand butterfly wings, “It is your honeymoon, the start of your married life-”

Clamping your mouth shut you clear your throat. Heat blooms within the apples of your cheeks, and embarrassment fills your gut. Lisa must think you to be airheaded with how quickly you’ve seemed to have forgotten the most important rule of court– never question the crown. Straightening your spine, you hold your chin up in the way your mother taught you to.

“What I meant to say was, I am grateful to you, your Grace,” you say, placing a simple smile onto your lips, “There is so much that I can learn from you, you have my eternal thanks.”

“Good.”

Lisa’s lips, painted a deep crimson, curl into a demure smile. She smooths her thumb along your chin in a silent act of praise. Her vibrant green eyes glimmer with something you interpret as being pride and it makes your lungs painfully constrict from within the confines of your ribcage. You should shift your gaze to the floor, maybe the vanity that sits just to the left of Lisa, they should rest on anything other than her eyes. They shine like a matching set of peridot gems plucked, shined, and shaped just for Lisa to wear. But, you can’t seem to do anything other than helplessly stare at her.

“Next time if you feel unsure allow the other person to continue talking,” Lisa hums, snatching her hand away, “The longer one talks, the more likely they are to accidentally reveal their true intentions.

Seizing the delicate lace parasol from where it sits next to her vanity, Lisa offers you the crook of her elbow.

“Come, I should like some company in the gardens as I break my fast.”

Tentatively slipping your arm into hers, you send her a wary glance, “Should I be … writing this down?”

Lisa laughs like you’re just another court jester whose entire existence revolved around her entertainment, maybe it did. You were starting to feel like one big joke with how Lisa regarded you. This was how she was raised to treat those beneath her station, this you had to remind yourself, it was nothing personal nor was it a testament to your character.

“No my dear,” she hums, “The walls have eyes and ears, it's best not to keep them fed.”

Lisa nearly sports a grimace but it's covered with a mask of duplicity. She believes it is best for you to know nothing more than to be guarded, carrying on as if there weren’t a sword hanging above her head. There were many rules you’d learn over the course of your stay at court, the way whispers travelled was one you’d see for yourself and come to understand without her hand. Ushering you out of her private chambers and into the rest of her shared solar, Lisa hands off her parasol to the knight standing post outside her door, Porthos, you think but you can’t be sure as Lisa greets him with nothing but a short nod of her head. 

Diluc sits by his lonesome at the large gold-studded table at the centre of the room. A stack of parchment is spread across the tabletop, a fluffy feathered quill is clasped between his pale fingers as he scribbles onto the sheets. He doesn’t bother to look up from his work as you and Lisa shuffle past him.

“Good morrow, husband,” Lisa mutters as if that were a typically sweet endearment for the newly married to use. There was nothing sweet in the way Lisa regards Diluc, their hackles were raised in defence, shoulders tensed and stiff in the balmy morning light. 

“Good morrow, your Grace.”

If Lisa frowns you do not comment on it.

You supposed this was how it was when you married someone you’d known far less than a fortnight. They were little more than strangers, so were you and she, and yet she seemed far more comfortable conversing with you than she did with him. Diluc’s vermillion eyes peer over his shoulder at you. His gaze makes you squirm uncomfortably, his stoic expression reveals nothing and the almost bored look in his eyes makes you wonder if this is why Lisa was so hellbent on teaching you how to properly navigate life at court. Though you could not tell, perhaps this expression was the subtle judgment Lisa wished to shield you from, or he knew. The thought frightened you, but you could not stop yourself from wondering if Diluc had pieced together that you were well aware of their transgressions. Did you wear it on your face, looking aghast and as guilty as he should have? Or, did your knowledge shroud you in a cloud of bitter perfume that stunk up their chambers?

Dipping your head into a bow, you tear your eyes away from Diluc, “Good morrow, your Grace,” you say, attempting to subtly check for Lisa’s approval. She seems pleased that you remembered that he was now the prince consort and not simply a herren, “May Barbatos bless you.”

Lisa grins, a small “Good,” passing her lips as you rise to your full height.

Leaning down to press a kiss on Diluc’s pale cheek, her lipstick leaves a mark, Lisa clasps her hands together, “We shall be breaking our fast in the gardens,” she says in a bored tone, “So, feel free to attend to your ledgers or hand them off to the crowns treasurer if you so please.”

“Shall we dine together this evening?”

“Yes, I shall be all yours this eve,” she hums, “I’ve requested full privacy so we may dine alone during our honeymoon.”

Diluc catches Lisa’s hand, it’s attached to the arm that is still tightly clasped within the crook of your elbow and delicately presses his lips to it. If you had known any better you might have believed the gesture to be romantic, swooning over how darling the intimacy was. The serving girl, Glory, refilled Diluc’s goblet with something sweet with a large grin on her face. Her cheeks were dabbled with a demure pink blush and she looked away when Diluc turned back to his papers. Glory just barely attempts to meet Lisa’s eyes as she dips into a curtsy and flutters away in a fit of barely concealed giggles.

Lisa’s lips flatten into a straight line. She’s noticed too, the way Glory titters like a little girl pouring over the tales of a great romance. There’s a minuscule part of Lisa who wishes she could do the same but she’d learned long ago that they were called fairytales for a reason. The love that existed within a few pretty words was forever a fantasy to placate the broken hearts of women and girls who married too young to men much older than them, for the ones who married strangers, and the ones who lived alone in great stone castles with their babies, not knowing if their children would ever come to know the man they called “father”.

At least Lisa was nearing thirty by the time she’d been made to wed.

Lisa’s gaze cuts like stone as she sets it upon Glory, “Deary, you would not mind reminding the other serving girls, would you?” She asks, “This is a special time in a couple's marriage… and I’d hate for anyone to witness anything untoward.”

Hearing Lisa call Glory the same endearment she’s called you before makes your stomach churn uncomfortably. Bile coats your tongue and you feel yourself about to retch until you catch sight of Lisa’s stern expression. How silly, you think to yourself, getting all worked up when Lisa was merely doing her duty. Sweet words mean nothing from the forked tongue of a dragon whose fire threatens to set the room ablaze if her will is not abided by. She was playing pretend, soothing Glory just enough for her to think she was well-liked by the future queen if only to keep the wool pulled tightly over her eyes.

“Yes,” Glory nods, “I shall make haste and remind them, good day, your Grace.”

Glory’s face turns a garish shade of red. Lisa seemed pleased.

“Yes, good day.”

Lisa’s fingers wiggle languidly as she waves Glory off. Turning back to you, she tightens her grip on your arm, “Come now, darling we too should make haste,” Lisa says, “Before the sun comes out even more, too much sunlight is bad for the complexion you know.”

You nod dumbly in agreement as if you had any idea what she meant by that. Your youth had been spent running amock barefoot in nothing but underclothes during the summers. The children of the servants often joined you, your mother never minded how long you spent in the sun not even when you missed dinners because you were too busy napping on a warm patch of grass. So long as you were happy and safe, there’d be a plate warmed by cooling embers for when you were ready to return to the world of the genteel.

“Hm, I shall have to get you a parasol too. You won’t be able to share mine forever.”

“My family has opened a tab with the seamstress on call,” you mumble, frowning a bit, “So, I suppose you can tell the seamstress which style you would like to have made, and my father will pay it in full.”

You did not understand why it was so imperative that you had one of your own but it was easier to ask your father to pay for useless accessories that your future queen deemed necessary rather than attempting to understand Lisa.

“Nonsense I shall cover the expenses myself, it isn’t much anyhow.”

She whisks you away without another word to her husband. Diluc does not seem to mind, having long since clocked out of the conversation. Porthos follows five paces behind the two of you as you breeze through the castle. You had heard Diluc was not one for idle chatter but you would not have guessed Lisa wasn’t either. From what you’d known of her, she was quite lively in her youth but that was before Jean had been whisked away to Fontaine to marry some ridiculously wealthy nobleman the moment she had turned eighteen. That had been nearly a decade ago, and she had not returned home since her father’s funeral.

Lisa must not have had anyone she should trust the way she trusted Jean. Hopefully, one day she could trust you just the same.

You’re unsure if she truly trusts you after spending nearly every day with her for nearly six moons. 

Lisa is a difficult woman to read. Every inch of her is intentional, from the jewels clasped around her neck all the way up to the kind of expression she wears. There is no part of Lisa that is not carefully crafted, she’s endlessly placed on display for all to scrutinize. They pick her apart with their eyes, find some fault along the hem of her dress, and dream up some reason as to why she is not fit to be queen, like it lays within the way her hair curls and falls over her lithe shoulder or amongst the crushed pigments that fill the apples of her cheeks.

Her visage is a constant mirage of neutrality.

Unlike you, she never cringes when the conversation lulls into a wall of thick silence or flinches when boorish men spit filth at her because they believed they knew more than their crown princess, simply because of the cock between their legs. It’s a feat you think when your own mask slips all too easily. In reality, it must have been a lifetime of suppressing every want and desire to pass through her mind. None of what Lisa wished for mattered, not when the greater good of Mondstadt lay in the palm of her hands. You had not learned yet, what true sacrifice was not in the way Lisa knew of it.

Or, of how Jean Gunnhildr knew it.

She married a wealthy man known to most by the name “Varka” when she was just eight and ten. He, to your knowledge, was nearing five and forty. The Gunnhildr clan had suffered loss after loss once they lost their toehold on the trade routes that led to Liyue and Fontaine. Their coffers had been drained in an effort to keep themselves out of debt, they had hoped their luck would turn eventually but they only seemed to sink deeper into despair as months with no income turned into years. They let go of servants, sold jewels, and gave up ancestral land to distant cousins who managed to hold onto some level of prestige even when they received no help from those who lived lavishly in the “family” homes. When there was nothing left to sell, they turned to Jean. She was the eldest unmarried lady left in the family, Barbara was far too young, and Jean held a rather esteemed reputation. It was the logical choice, ripe with all sorts of possibilities. The Pegg family had no money either but still possessed a rather well-respected position in court, though it did not matter much if they did, Seamus lost any claim to it when he absconded his family's name in favour of taking Gunnhildr’s name and wearing their colours, boring their sigils too.

Jean had a pleasing smile, she was smart as a whip, and since the tender age of eight had been the crown princess's most beloved companion. If they could not have the princess, then her friend was more than an adequate consolation. She could have had her pick of any man across Mondstadt and with her family’s connections, the same could have been said for Liyue or Fontaine but when Varka, a man nearly twice her age asked for a hand, neither of her parents found any reason to say no. He held a great deal of connections and was more than happy to shepherd the Gunnhildr back into society's good graces. He was the perfect son-in-law and his pockets were heavy with gold coins. It mattered not if Jean cringed in his presence or that the crown princess heavily disapproved of the match.

Frederica and Seamus did not care for the approval or kinship of the crown when Varka promised to find Jean a spot amongst the Tsarita’s court in Snezhnaya during their courtship. They may not have had the same history as Mondstadt but their wealth superseded it tenfold and that was enough for them to sell their daughter. It mattered not that he had been the highest bidder or even offered a tangible solution to their family's poverty, the prospect of prestige and affluence was far too delicious for them not to take a bite out of. Varka was ripe with possibility, and they wished to feast on all that he could offer without a second thought. They’d tear apart his carcass too while their daughter grieved if it meant restoring the lavish lifestyle they had grown accustomed to. And, they didn’t blink twice when he failed to bring her to Snezhnaya, settling in Fontaine where King Neuvilette only tolerated his presence.

Lisa banished them from court the evening after Jean’s wedding. She had banished Varka too and by extension, Jean too was barred from court and any affiliated social events. Lisa had only been one and twenty, and both her parents were overcome with a bout of illness. She was hurt and without any guidance for the first time in her life. Like all the men who spent each night praying for Barabatos for her downfall and believed she would, Lisa acted on emotion. The tide seemed to turn that day and from then on she had turned into a wall of stone, like an evil witch from a fairytale came alive one night and drained all the jubilance from her body and left her with nothing but melancholy.

In the six months that you’d known her not as heir to the throne or Princess Lisa of House Minci but simply as Lisa, you don’t think her mask had slipped at all. If there was trust, she hid it well. Public loyalty too often meant trouble for those in positions like hers. It wasn’t very fair of her to play favourites either but you think she may have with you. Even if she wore a face of indifference most days.

It must have been rather exhausting to keep appearances up at all hours of the day, endlessly playing a one sided game of chess where the rules switched at the wind's whim. A yawn broke through the thin line you pressed your lips into, the very thought of constantly looking over your shoulder to ensure no slimy rat clung to your coattails. Your eyes roam over the pile of half written letters sprawled about the table before you. You could not focus on writing to your family and the few friends who bothered to keep a correspondence with you when the trail of your thoughts continued to circle back to Lisa.

Two days prior she called upon you to accompany her to the observatory. It was rather modest, lacking most of the embellishments you’d find anywhere else amongst the keep— it was nothing comparable to that which one would find in Sumeru but still, quite the sight to enjoy at nightfall when the skies were clear. She summoned you in the middle of the afternoon when the skies were greyed and out came a great wave of rain that pounded ceaselessly against the glass. 

Albedo, the chief alchemist did not linger for long after escorting the two of you into the observatory, hastily advising the two of you not to linger for too long before bolting off to his lab once more. That left the two alone with nary a servant, or nosy courtier to listen in on your conversations for the first time.

Lisa wore an extremely lavish emerald day gown that put whatever the young debutantes were wearing to attract suitors to shame. The gold trim melted into her sun kissed skin and crafted the appearance of a scandalously low neckline. You felt rather underdressed next to her in the breezy pale pink frock you sported but you supposed that most would when in the presence of a princess. Her hair was styled in a simple manner, curled and tucked over one shoulder with a gem encrusted rose shaped barrette to keep the strands pinned in place.

She was effortlessly flawless as usual but where jealousy would bloom over your inadequacies you felt nothing. If there was something it lay buried and twisted within a bed of biting thorns that pricked your skin when you got too close. Lisa was the most radiant woman you ever laid eyes on and the knowledge of that made your stomach unexpectedly leap in your belly.

“This must look spectacular at night!” You marvelled with faux enthusiasm, tucking your hands behind your back as you bounced on the balls of your feet, “Perhaps we can visit again once the stars are visible.”

You took to her lessons well enough, never once complaining though frustration grew to become a familiar friend as you struggled to catch up to the years of etiquette that far surpassed the norms of the country. Lisa nodded thoughtfully as she gazed wistfully at the rain, lost in a memory you presumed. You had taken to trying to decode her expression in search of whatever may have laid beneath but Lisa was far too good.

Quirking her lips into a smile, Lisa suddenly sighed, “Perhaps we should,” she proclaimed, reaching out to gather your gloved hands into hers, “We shall make a night of it if that should please you.”

“It would please me endlessly, your grace,” you said, your cheeks warming as she affectionately clasped your hands, “Though nothing brings me greater joy than your contentment.”

Lisa released a full-bellied laugh, that was the first time she hadn’t attempted to mask her true feelings from you. It made your cheeks burn even hotter as you smiled at the sight of happiness.

Wiping a stay tear that gathered at the corner of her eye, Lisa clutched your chin so you wouldn’t move when she innocently bopped the tip of your nose, “My my, aren’t you just the sweetest darling,” she giggled.

It was a rather belittling gesture when you tried your very best to appear as mature as she was. Though you didn’t find yourself insulted. Your racing heart was far too distracting for you to focus on the mild bruise to your ego. You wished that she would see you as an equal so that one day she may allow you to dispel that wretched mask from her. 

The woman that lay beneath it was far too entrancing to be trapped under the surface until her mortal body withered away. If only she allowed you to grow closer, you’d prove to her that you were worthy of such a sight.

The uneven pitter-patter of clomping feet bounding through your solar broke you away from your thoughts.

“The princess requires your presence,” Glory hiccups as she clambers into your chambers, “At once in the gardens!”

Her cheeks are a blotchy red and her skin glistens with perspiration– she must have run all the way over here. Pressing your fingertips to the bottle of the chilled jug of water, you slide it closer to the edge where she hovers.

“Have a drink, we’re in no rush,” you murmur.

Ducking her head down into a hasty bow, Glory wastes no time in filling the spare goblet and gulping down the cool liquid. Water dribbles down her chin to her neck in fine rivulets, your mind briefly flashes to Lisa sitting alone in the garden. The air has gone stale and thick with humidity within the keep, summer has rolled in with a fierce crack of its whip and the pleasant balm of spring has been cast aside, nothing but a distant memory to dream of until it’s come again. Her skin’s grown warm with a golden tinge, and her cheeks are filled with a near-constant flush but it suits her. Strands of her hair have grown lighter too, they edge on blonde but still very much exist within the realms of brown. Would the heat have her act as undignified as it had most others in the country? They ran around in cotton breeches and thin chemise when within the safety of their homes but sometimes uptight fathers and dismayed mothers meddled far more than necessary. Summer was the season of marriage for a reason.

The image of her skin hot and dewy beneath the scorching sun made your mouth go dry. Reaching forward for your hand fan, you flick it open and pray to whoever might listen that your expression does not betray you. If it did, all of those hours with Lisa would have gone to waste.

Squishing your eyes shut you force anyone else to come to mind, Sir Kaeya, or even Master Albedo the castle’s on-call alchemist. As soon as your mind settles on Kaeya– ever the flamboyant presence at court, your thoughts begin to trickle downward to his brother Diluc which leads you right back to the princess. 

Glory holds out your parasol, the one Lisa had commissioned, an embarrassed expression sitting on her face as she struggles to refrain from wiping her hand across her chin and neck. She follows five paces behind you as you flutter out of your chambers, perching over your shoulder to see you safely delivered. She must long for Lisa’s praise. They’d fill the aching cavern of loneliness that split Glory open. Godwin left to fight on the front lines of whatever ludicrous ventures the Knights of Favonius cooked up on Lisa’s payroll, using her name and country as an excuse to fuel their need for bloodshed. Ever since they embarked from the northern port for the sandy shores of Natlan, Glory’s been searching for pieces of Godwin wherever she roamed, today it was Lisa, tomorrow it may have been you.

Lisa was a good choice, she could be a stand-in mother, lover, or even the older sister you’d always dreamed of. You were unsure which one you wished her to be, it muddled your mind and made you wish the dandelion wine that flowed endlessly throughout the realm was stronger. Perhaps then, it’d ease your weary mind and put an end to the murky waters that surrounded your feelings for Lisa.

“Your grace.”

Glory’s demure chirp brings your gaze up from the stone pathway of the garden and up to the sun-kissed visage of your future queen. Freckles had begun to bloom along the bridge of her nose and amongst the rosy petals of her cheeks. The warm weather suited Lisa, it made her look more akin to some sort of nymph as she mindlessly thumbed at the sprigs of flowers that surrounded her tea table. Lisa’s eyes slide upwards, across the expanse of your body before settling on your eyes. There was no judgment or malice behind her expression like there was when most ladies of the court allowed their gaze to sweep over another person's body.

“Come, have a seat,” Lisa said, your name hanging sweetly off her lips as she pats the chair nestled beside her, “There is a bit of shade right here.”

Dipping your head downwards, you silently dismiss Glory who scutters away to the solace of the cool stone castle and out from the scorching sun.

“Who dressed you this morning?” Lisa asks, her nose wrinkling upwards.

You shrug your shoulders as you sink into the cushioned metal chair, “I am unsure, I did not catch their name,” you say, your head falling into a confused tilt, “Is there something amiss with my attire?”

“It is seasonally inappropriate, you shall grow ill from the heat if the day were any warmer!”

Lisa’s rouged lips settle into a small frown. Her fingers twitch in her lap as if she were resisting the urge to fuss over you. Glancing away, you clear your throat, “How has your morning been, your grace?”

“Rather droll,” she sighs as her eyes flicker away for a moment before they settle on the cloak clasped around your neck, “Allow me to remove this, I shall remain distracted if I do not.”

Her delicate hands rise from her lap to unclip your cloak, they brush against the exposed skin of your collarbone as she pushes the heavy fabric away from your body. A shiver trickles up your spine and you try to disguise the shudder that tears through you with a small cough. If Lisa has noticed, she says nothing instead focusing on the large emerald necklace that rests against your throat.

“Thank you, your grace.”

Lisa releases a small sound of acknowledgement and nothing more, pouring all of her focus into smoothing out the fabric and delicately folding your cloak over the back of your chair. She watches you from the corner of her eye when you turn your gaze away from her and to the elaborate spread of tea cookies and sandwiches. She is not so inconspicuous that you do not notice her or the frown that slides onto her perfectly painted lips. Lisa seems to want to chastise whoever dressed you for a second time when she notices how thick the fabric of your ensemble is but remains quiet as you comb through the delicacies laid before you.

“There is lemonade,” Lisa pipes up once she is satisfied with how smoothly your cloak lays with nary a wrinkle in sight, “Your favourite, I asked that it be made just as you like it.”

Laying her hands flat atop her lap, Lisa gives you an expectant look. Perhaps, it was hopeful, but you could not be sure with how well she disguises herself, pitching up towering stone walls before you can ever examine her expression long enough to read her. The glass pitcher is cold to the touch, perfectly cubed chunks of ice clink as you raise it to pour into the ornate glass that rests before your plate. The lemonade is fragrant, the sour citrus biting your nostrils as it fills your glass. Lisa’s own glass is empty with no signs of any water or lemonade lingering at the bottom so you fill hers as well.

“You did not,” she begins, a hand reaching out to stop you, “You do not have to serve me.”

Lisa says your name with a sigh before she bows her head in thanks and wraps her nimble fingers around the thick stem, “I do, your grace,” you say with a laugh, “That is what I was brought to court for.”

“I suppose you’re right darling but still, you’re of noble birth and should not serve your own lemonade nor mine.”

Your face grows hot, still, you have much to learn in the ways of appeasing your future queen. If she notices your embarrassment, Lisa chooses not to comment on it as she brings her drink to her lips. Your eyes follow her movement, gaze settling on her plush lips and the way they look wrapped around her glass. You never seemed to tire of imprinting her image to your memory, each day brought a new, rare sight for you to cherish and study when left to your own devices. A bit of the sticky liquid rolls dribbles out of the corner of her mouth, rolling down her chin to the expanse of her neck.

Your hand darts out to catch the remnants of the lemonade before it reaches her bosom and dirties her décolletage. Lisa’s chest stills as you gently brush your knuckle up her neck to her chin. Her cheeks fill with colour and you can feel her swallow. Her mouth presses into a thin line and her brows furrow as you retract your hand, wiping it onto the neatly folded napkin beside your plate.

“You had a bit of lemonade right there,” you say dumbly as if it were to excuse you for touching her without permission.

The princess was married, she’d be your queen sooner than late, and you had no right to touch her as casually as you did. All that was reserved for you, a mere courtesan who’d been tasked with dressing her, was the accidentally brushing of skin when you slid her dress over her chemise or tightened the laces of her corset and nothing more. Anything more was indelicate and improper when she’d expressed no further affection for you. If you’d been her friend then maybe she’d rest her head in your lap or even hold your hand as a sign of goodwill as the two of you spent time together but you were not her friend. You were nothing more to her as she was nothing more to you– two people stitched together for convenience.

Lisa turns her head away from you, a few stray strands of her hair brush across her cheekbone, “Yes,” she mumbles, pressing her bottom lip between her teeth, “Thank you.”

You should apologize for such uncouth behaviour, but your mouth remains hung open with no words daring to come out as she clears her throat. Discomfort trickles up your spine and your mind begins to spiral with horrid images of her scolding you in front of your parents or shaming you before the entire court as she sent you home. Logically you knew that Lisa would never publicly ridicule you, she was far too kind, too lenient at times according to the men of the court, but she may well scold you like a child. She’d be well within her right to and that filled you with a sense of dread. You had worked so hard to appear the ever-composed and mature courtesan that you were not.

“You’re very doting,” Lisa says, turning to you with a small smile, “But, I assure you that I can care for myself in the absence of help.”

She laughs and you laugh too, “As can I,” you say, idly pointing to the glass of lemonade you poured for yourself.

“I suppose you’re correct.”

Clearing her throat, Lisa gestures to the small spread of food before you and her, “You should help yourself.”

You pluck the first sandwich you see, mindlessly plopping it onto your plate at her instruction. Lisa snickers but says nothing at all. 

Her skin was soft as satin and far more intriguing than the cucumber sandwich you’ve begun to force yourself to nibble on. You wondered if Diluc had thought the same of her skin if he too felt such an urge to touch it at the more inopportune moments such as when they were dining together with their families or amid council meetings. If he did touch her, how did he touch her? His hands were quite rough from years of military service and sword usage, calloused and scarred. Lisa was unblemished and unweathered, many called her a witch for it but you supposed that was simply how princesses were; perfect. Surely, she wouldn’t like to feel such coarse skin against hers, biting into the delicate flesh of her ribs or hip bones as he held her. Diluc did not deserve to touch her not with such roguish and indelicate hands. In what little you’d seen of the two of them together, it was evident that he was undeserving of such a woman.

Your stomach lurched uncomfortably as the thought passed and you reminded yourself that the princess had allegedly hand-picked her husband herself.

“Refreshing,” you mutter as you swallow the sandwich in an effort to force down the bile that coats your throat, “What precision the cook must have to cut the cucumbers so thin, the knights may well be jealous that they’re in the kitchens and not the battlefields with them.”

Lisa dislikes small talk but this feels appropriate, it's a safe venture that brings a delighted smile to her face, “Oh yes, I rather think that thinly slicing your enemies is a practical battle skill,” She jests, her soft green eyes finally meeting yours, “I suppose I should send Glory to ask around, hm, there may be the second coming of Vennessa in our midsts and we’d never know!”

“Glory should like any endeavour you ask of her, so long it is you that asks it.”

Her brows raise with intrigue, “Oh? Why is that, and speak plainly.”

“She holds you in the highest esteem, your grace,” you say with a slight shrug of your shoulders, “As do we all. I rather think you are the most beloved lady in all of the realm and for good reason too.”

“Yes but you seemed to suggest her dutiful dispositions extend far past how high my station is,” Lisa smirks, “Do you have your ear to the ground and know something more, darling?”

In the days before she was the heir and was simply the young princess, Lisa loved nothing more than to research. Her mind craved knowledge and it did not matter if it was academic or simply gossip, she had to know what you knew and then some. The days of her youth were spent more often in the comforting confines of the castle's rather lush library than anywhere else. Lisa would not allow you to wriggle your way out of this comment, no matter how empty you’d claim it was.

Curling your fingers around the stem of your glass you took a sip of your lemonade. It was rather sweet but still tart enough for your lips to pucker at the taste, the perfect balance that made this your favourite beverage, “I do not have my ear to the ground as you said it was improper for any lord, lady, or courtesan to engage in gossips,” You reply with a haughty grin, “Unless of course, you’ve changed your mind?”

Lisa’s thumb and forefinger grab your chin, pointing it downwards so you are forced to look into her eyes. Your chest tightened and you had to remind yourself to suck down a large gulp of hair before you forget to breathe entirely. Her face grew closer to yours, close enough for her breath to fan across your face for a moment.

“You think you’re so clever,” she whispers, “You must tell me, I am to be your queen.”

It was not a card Lisa liked to play often, she found it rather repulsive to use one's station for their own gain but as curiosity lapped at her belly and urged her to question you, her tongue slipped. It meant nothing, it was not as though she’d torture the information out of you, you would not be questioned sharply but her gaze simmered with a fire that made it hard for you to resist her whims. Even without such a strong expression pinning you into your seat, perhaps you’d be destined to spill because her touch electrified you and left you with no choice but to try and please her.

“Glory looks up to you, quite a bit I must confess,” you state, swallowing thickly, “I’ve heard no rumours but with the way she looks at you, as if you hung the moon and the stars … I gather that she wishes to please you, that she enjoys your praise far more than a serving girl should.”

The Cheshire grin that forces Lisa’s mouth to curl upwards steals the breath from your lungs. She looks rather divine like this, like a true queen. A part of you wishes you could see this side of her more often but you spent your days far removed from the kingdom's high council. This side of her was reserved for the men that doubted her and you could hardly believe that they thought her incapable when she was such a force to be reckoned with.

Though, you may have just been a weakling with no resolve.

“I see,” she says, her eyes growing lidded, “Well, I suppose if it means better service then why should I break the poor girl's heart.”

“Do you do that often?”

The question slips without you meaning for it.

“Break hearts?” Lisa echoes, her head cocking to the side, “Oh of course I have darling, are you kidding?”

Your heart leaps in your chest. 

You’re unsure if it's excitement or dread, “A princess has to always be careful, always on guard,” Lisa states, still firmly holding your chin, “I’ve turned down as many suitors as I have military endeavours.”

“That makes sense,” you utter in a rather small voice, “You’ve hung the moon and the stars, I too should feel my heart ache should you ever dare to reject me.”

Lisa releases you quickly, as if you’ve said something to shock her or perhaps she’s just realized what a compromising position the two of you were in.

“You’re very sweet darling,” she says as she grabs a macaron and takes a small bite from it.

Her hand covers her mouth as she chews, hiding her visage from you. It's tactful, that much you’ve gathered but you’re too busy missing the way her warm skin felt upon yours to ruminate on its meaning for long.

The next, large, sip you take of your drink is much needed. The cool liquid squashes the flames that threaten to set your mind ablaze with inappropriate thoughts about Lisa. Pressing the perspired glass to your warm cheek, you focus your attention on the myriad of flowers that surround the two of you. 

“A virtue I’m sure will reward you on the marriage mart.”

It takes all of your willpower to suppress the frown of displeasure that wishes to cross your lips. It was not often that Lisa brought up marriage, courting, or anything pertaining to relationships. Conversations of that nature always seemed to lead back to her and her predicament or what others would call her marriage. 

You too disliked it, the prospect of imagining what sort of fate may befall you or what sort of bargain may be struck up for your hand now that you held such a precarious position, so close to the princess. It made the fight for your hand far more lucrative, the price much higher than it would have been had you remained in your simple life at your family's estate. The thought made you feel ill at ease as if it had all been some ploy by your father to receive an offer that was far greater than your dowry could ever afford.

“If you say so, your grace,” you say, attempting to keep your expression neutral, “You know far more of the marriage mart than I.”

Lisa did that all too often. She let you close and offered you a glimpse into her world whether she meant to or not. Your presence was unbidden as she could not help but allow colour to spill past the dulled shades of grey she masked herself with when she grew docile, more comfortable than she’d wish to be only to shut you out with a comment she knew would make your skin crawl. The good mood and banter effectively severed at the neck before too many of her softest spots were revealed to you.

“I do say so,” She hums, adding a few sweets to your plate once she’s finished with her macaron.

It dangles in the air, unspoken because it needs not to be uttered. You know just as well what she refrains from saying and she bites her tongue because you know. It begins to feel empty, the threat that sits heavily between the two of you. Half the court would have had their tongues flayed or slayed with their heads displayed on spikes near the gate of the castle if all acts of treason were punished to the highest extent like she’d have you believe.

“I do say so, to question my word is treasonous.”

“Perhaps my match shall be half as fruitful as yours, your grace,” you murmured against your better judgment, “If perhaps you were to arrange it instead of mother and father?”

They’d be proud of you for the suggestion even if it was underlaid with a snarky bite. Her shackles rise at the mention of her marriage. Guilt laps at your throat like the claws of a desperate animal backed into a corner. The look of hurt that flashes through her eyes is as sharp as the edge of a knife to your throat. She’s pressed it to the soft of your neck and allowed your skin to prickle open. You bleed a sticky scarlet and it spills onto the table before Lisa. She can see it, the way it stains your face and the innocent daffodil yellow of your frock like sloshed wine. You understand now why she doesn’t often pay mind to court gossip even when it is pure treachery. The way she wears disappointment scars far deeper than any blade ever could.

“Perhaps it shall be if you are blessed by the Gods,” Lisa says with a smile, it's a robotic and routine reflex, like she’s nothing but a pliant pup who’s learnt to dance on command, “With my help, you will be but then you shall be blessed by me.”

To be blessed by a queen, by her– it was a far tangible proof that the Gods looked kindly upon you rather than waiting and hoping for some sort of divine intervention from them.

Picking at the raspberry tart on your plate, you frown, “Though, I’m unsure that I should like to marry,” peering at her from the corner of your eye, you sink the prongs into the softer, buttery pastry, “None of the men at court are particularly interesting and the men of the country are too boorish.”

“It’s unbecoming to be overly critical of others.”

Lisa was never one to mince her words it seemed.

Her honesty was refreshing most days but now your cheeks burned in mortification, “Is it being overly critical if I am simply making an observation?” You asked, “It is no fault of their own that they are so very boring. Men do not have to be interesting to be an eligible bachelor they simply have to have very full coiffeurs.”

You jab your fork into your plate with more force than you intended to. The crust crumbles into smaller pieces and the dollop of whipped cream begins to mingle with the deep magenta custard, leaving a lump mess out of the once meticulously crafted dessert.

“It is just a fact, your grace. Is it so wrong to be picky about which man I shall be shackled to for the rest of my days?”

Scooping up a bit of the raspberry custard, you lift your fork to your mouth. The burst of tangy sweetness you were expecting to dabble on your tongue never came, instead, you felt three slender fingers envelop your wrist. Lisa had brought the fork to her lips and swallowed the bite you’d prepared for yourself. Her tongue poked out to lap up the bit of cream that smeared across her cupid’s bow. Your eyes settle into a stony, fixed stare as you watch her hum in contentment.

“You were playing with your food, darling,” Lisa chirped as if it should have been obvious, “I was simply demonstrating what you’re meant to do with it.”

You’d be insulted at the insinuation should anyone else have made it. The teasing undercurrent to her words was not lost on you, though it stirred a deep confusion. An incoming tide of sudden playfulness washed away her dismay within the blink of an eye. It must have been something you said but the ignorance was anything but blissful. Furrowing your brows, you watch as Lisa sinks into the back of her chair, slouching a bit.

“I see,” you mutter, pushing your plate toward her, “Well do continue with your so-called lesson in etiquette.”

Lisa shakes her head, her curls bounce with the movement and you’re struck with awe for a moment as you watch. She was truly a vision to behold and though your stomach was filled with an uncomfortable flutter you could at least admit to yourself that Lisa Minci was the most beautiful woman you ever had the good fortune to lay your eyes upon.

“I do believe I’ve had just enough sweets to rid my tongue of the bitter taste on it,” Lisa hums, resting her interlocked hands upon her midriff.

“Bitter taste?”

Her lips curl upwards in a devilish manner, “Oh yes, you see whenever the thought of boring men as you put it, crosses my mind a rather acidic taste seems to coat my tongue.”

A small giggle escapes your lips and soon Lisa joins in with a laugh of her own. You’ve never heard her truly laugh before. All you had been afforded were forced titters behind a demure hand whenever a lord of the court decided to play the role of the jester. They were missing out. They may have thought that they possessed all the rarest riches of the land but in truth, only you had. You tried to commit the sound to memory, to memorize the way her cheeks filled with coloured and her eyes squished shut as her grin grew wider but a fleeting thought bristled through you, and with it came the bitter burn of jealousy. What if she laughed like this with her husband, Diluc? He was a rather stoic man, not one for conversation unless it suited him but behind closed doors with his wife, he could have been different.

Was there a side of Diluc that only Lisa was privy to? Did Lisa show Diluc parts of her that she wouldn’t show you?

You could feel your skin turning green with envy whereas hers glowed pink with delight. Lisa caught sight of your tense expression and pressed her lips together to suppress the lingering traces of laughter that made her cheeks ache, “Do not worry my sweetling, you shall remain interesting forever.”

“Will I?” Your voice was painfully small, fitting for how utterly defenceless you felt.

“But of course,” she proclaimed, her fingers digging into the pleats of her skirt as she leaned toward you, “So long as you do not allow your husband to taint you with his ailment.”

Something vile curled at the back of your throat. It urged you to say something uncouth, something that would put an end to this conversation and bring forth another wave of disappointment. Gripping the sides of your chair, you suck in a shaky breath.

“Is the Prince Consort afflicted with such a dastardly ailment?” You cautiously ask instead, your voice unsteady. You couldn’t bring yourself to say his name, “Is that why you prefer to spend your free hours with me?”

The blush that blossoms upon the apples of Lisa’s cheeks is far darker than it had previously been. You wonder if she’s ashamed or if she’s embarrassed that you even asked such a thing, “Can you keep a secret?” she lowered her voice, whispering your name in a conspiratory manner. You nod your head against your better judgement, your curiosity far stronger than your resolve to keep Lisa’s marriage far from the confines of your mind, “Well in truth yes, Diluc is a rather boring man and he is always so serious.”

“Are those not admirable qualities for a consort to possess?”

“They are indeed,” Lisa murmurs, her eyes awfully watery as she trains them upon your face, “But they aren’t what I wished for in a husband, in truth, Diluc is not who I would have chosen for myself.”

It would be selfish for you to ask what kind of person Lisa would have envisioned for herself but the urge is overwhelming, “Then who?” You ask in a desperate tone of voice, her face has grown closer to yours. You can feel the warm fan of her breath across your cheeks and along the tip of your nose, “What sort of man did you envision for yourself.”

Your chest tensed and a prickling sensation gathered between your ribcage as if a long, thin blade was pressed against your flesh– ready to slice and flay before you’d even taken your last breath. 

Lisa remains silent, her pink blushed lips pressed into a firm line. You shouldn’t have asked, it was foolish and would only result in even more complicated feelings that stung too painfully to begin to dissect further. Her hand rises to brush a strand of your hair away from your eyes, her calloused fingertips brush against the flushed skin of your cheekbone. The green of her eyes looks even more striking when they are closer to your own, there are flecks of blue right near the centre of her iris that you’d never noticed before. With the summer sun, freckles had begun to sprout amongst the few beauty marks that graced her skin. Even more questions filled your mind, like why a princess's hands were calloused when they were supposed to be smooth and delicate, without blemish like all the bards have sung but Lisa had lived a thousand lives before you and she’d live a thousand more without you. You were just another beef-witted courtesan that would pass through her court, one she was burdened with modelling into a sensible member of society. You had no right to demand entrance into her past chapters.

“I never envisioned a man would rule by my side when I became queen.”

The admission is no louder than the soft rustle of leaves when a gentle breeze filters through them. Lisa wears shame beautifully. If you weren’t paying close enough attention, you’d miss the way her lips wobble in embarrassment, her hands trembling for a moment before she steadies them. Her mask has crumbled and she’s laid bare before you but her words are purposeful. Prying ears would gain nothing insightful, they’d assume Lisa is high in her instep, an arrogant wench who thought she was above tradition and smart enough to rule a kingdom all on her home. She was but even the most pious scholar would never admit it out loud. But you, you see it, the double meaning that is thoughtfully interwoven with her statement.

Lisa did not want a husband.

Your jaw falls slack, your mouth turns into an “o” shape as you search for something sensible to say to such an admission. There is nothing you could say that would spare either of you the torment that embedded itself within your chests. 

Her fingertips trail against your cheek to your jaw, gently pressing your mouth shut before she cups your face in the palm of her hand. The perfume that has melted into her skin is just barely noticeable but you can smell the fragrant notes of cecilia’s and valberries. You can almost taste the raspberry custard that you’re sure lingers upon her tongue and lips, if only you could angle your face closer to hers and then you wouldn’t have to wonder. Lisa moved before you could ruminate any further, in one swift movement she had gone from a hair’s breadth away to close enough for her lips to graze against yours. They linger there for a moment, just a whisper amongst a sea of shouts before she has pressed her mouth firmly against yours.

Her kiss isn’t greedy like you assumed kisses to be. There is no expectation of something more wrapped within it but you wish there was because it may have soothed the mind-numbing flames that followed the feeling of her bare skin on yours. Something heavy settled low within your belly, it was dizzying but thrilling all the same. Fear should have dawdled somewhere in the mix of emotions that made your heart leap all the way up your throat, but it didn’t. Your skin should have run cold but you burned so deeply that it was incomparable to the muggy summer heat that kept your skin sticky beneath the heavy woollen frock you wore. In the six months you had known Lisa, this very thing plagued your mind when you lay alone in bed and followed you into your slumber even when you tried to will yourself into a dreamless sleep.

It unleashes a type of hunger that you had never known though her lips only remain pressed to yours for a few short seconds– it felt much longer, but you’re left starved for something that no array of decadent sweets could satiate. Lisa’s eyes look strangely darker when they flutter open, her face garishly pink but still utterly kissable despite the shock that seems to mar her features. Your chest heaves in time with her, a myriad of deep breaths used to chase away the impending conversation.

“I must go!” You blurt between gasps, quickly tilting your face towards the sun to disguise your expression, “The hour has run late and I just remembered I was to write to my mother before the day's end!”

The sun had just barely begun to shift from its spot in the centre of the crystalline blue sky but Lisa took your excuse with grace, mechanically bobbing her head in agreement, “Oh yes, I have duties I too must attend to,” she breathed, clasping her hands together as you rose from your seat, “I am sure that my husband, Diluc, must require my presence too.”

You thoughtless nod as your trembling fingers grasp for the emerald necklace clasped around the base of your neck. Pressing your fingers against your décolletage, you will your heart to rest. It thrums wildly and you can hear each erratic beat with each inhale. You hope that Lisa couldn’t hear it, that the sound of flapping bird wings and splashing water in the distance was enough to muffle your pathetic reaction. The chair screeches against the tiled ground as you push out from your seat, falling over as you stumble away from the table.

The stifling air is no comparison to the hellish flames that nip at your heels as you walk away from the garden without a spared glance toward Lisa. You couldn’t look at her or bear witness to the look of utter devastation that painted her face. When your feet reach the sleek hardwood floors of the castle, you stop running. The hallway you found yourself in was empty, devoid of the usual hustle that you still hadn’t become accustomed to but you chose to relish the oddity. You tuck yourself into the first corner you find, your knees buckling beneath you until you’ve begun to slide down the wall and plop onto the ground with a small huff.

A bead of sweat rolls down your neck and another dribbles into the space between your breasts. When you go to pat yourself dry, you notice that in your haste you had forgotten your cloak on the back of your chair in the garden. You supposed now it lay carelessly on the ground amongst the bugs. It was a rather lavish cloak, one Lisa had made for you when she realized you were sorely lacking seasonally appropriate clothing.

Oh, you were in such trouble.

Lisa does not call upon you for nearly two months. 

Summer rolls through Mondstadt with a startling quickness but the chill that permeates the air is welcomed by you. Now that the social season has come to an end, your parents were more receptive to the idea of you returning home for a short visit. Without Lisa’s constant presence life at court is stagnant. For two months your days are spent alone. Lords and ladies do not find there is a need to converse with you when you no longer follow Lisa like a shadow and your listless figure floating through the halls is haunting.

Though, it is not half as haunting as the glimpses you catch of her.

It is torturous to be resigned to simply stealing an eyeful of her passing figure or a whiff of her perfume after she’s left a room. Strangely, half a year felt closer to a lifetime than it did a minuscule increment of time. But, Lisa did not wish to see you, that much was clear with how scarce she’d become. You’d have to be satisfied with chasing the train of her silk dresses like everyone else.

The library becomes a respite. Its walls are sparse from any life other than your own and that becomes a comfort on the days when it is difficult to put Lisa out of your mind. Tall tales of knights wooing princesses could only occupy your thoughts for so long and the privacy offered by the ancient, towering shelves meant you could weep to your heart's content without the prying eyes of the court scrutinizing you. The lush carpets and the soft velvety cushions that were littered around the space were what called you back to the library on the days when your heart felt a little bit lighter. However, it was never as soothing as you wished for it to be because it was never long before you wondered which books were Lisa’s favourites.

This was her home, the very place she had taken her first breath and would be the place where she took her last. It was filled with pieces of her that you couldn’t ignore no matter how you tried. From the portraits detailing her youth hung along the walls to the flowers printed into runners that led to the main hall, you were surrounded by everything that made Lisa who she was and to deny the joy that filled your heart just the same as anguish was a cruelty that even you could not commit.

And, in the end whoever Lisa was behind a lifetime of carefully poised hands and masterfully crafted curls would remain sealed away for another to uncover.

The soft call of your name breaks you from your thoughts, “Her grace calls upon you,” they said, their voice wavering, “She wishes for you to attend to her chambers at once.”

Turning away from the trunk you were peering into, you come face to face with Barbara Gunnhildr. Pegg, she was now Barbara Pegg. Word had it that the girl's father’s parents took her into their care sometime during the month of June. She now bore their family name and had begun to flutter around the court like a ghost of years past. Amid etiquette lessons and academic studies, Barbara often spent her days attending to the church with her family. She was a waif of a girl with bouncy curls spun from gold, dressed in a blue so pale it’d be mistaken for white by most. It was befitting for the aura of innocence that surrounded her. She was a sweet girl, far more näive than you had been when you first came to court and there was something worrying in the way her weaknesses were on display. With Lisa withdrawn and hidden away in her solar most days, there wasn’t anyone with enough power to ensure that her sister's fate wouldn’t befall her.

“Glory, do continue packing my clothing,” you instruct as you straighten your shoulders, “Thank you, Barbara, I shall visit her at once.”

Her head dips into a prim bow as she scampers away with a small smile, satisfied with her work. Your gaze glides over to where Glory is elbow-deep in your armoire, she’s humming to herself seeming all too content to run her fingers over the fine fabrics. She must be imagining what it would be like to wear one of them but just like the dreams you had of Lisa every night since that day in the garden, those thoughts were nothing more than a fleeting fantasy to plague your idle mind.

The walk to Lisa’s shared apartments with Diluc is solemn. Your chin remains titled high as you saunter through the halls, only stopping to greet those whose station ranks above yours. They don’t seem to recognize the aura of dread that prowls alongside you, their spirits are tinged with merriment since the well-loved Weinlesefest grew near. None seemed too bothered by the absence of their heir around the court. But, you bite your tongue and allow no trace of ill content to show on your expression.

Lisa’s door was imposing much like her. The gold crusted knocker that lay in the middle of the wood was meticulously crafted into the shape of a rose. Two twisted thorn-covered vines looped together and met in the middle. The signs of age wore around the handle of the knocker, revealing the darker metal beneath the brush of gold. Before you could raise your hand and wrap your nimble fingers around the knocker, the door swung open. Diluc stood tall in the entryway. He was quite the dignified man, even when dressed down in a part of charcoal coloured breeches and a loose white blouse. His hands were stained with ink blotches and his ruby red eyes were ringed by a deep plum that gave away all the sleepless nights that were the centre of this week's round of gossip. The laces of his blouse were loose and revealed a spattering of crimson hair that covered his broad chest and pale skin.

Many ladies and some lords of the court fawned over the king consort to be, his name a constant on their tongue. They found him to be the most comely man to ever grace the kingdom, even more so than his charming younger brother Kaeya. As you peered at him in the low light, you tried to see just what captured the interest of so many but you felt nothing.

“Your grace,” you mutter hastily as you dip into a messy courtesy, “Good evening.”

Diluc’s eyes settle upon your face but he doesn’t see you. He looks right through you, hardly lifting the corners of his mouth as he greets you, “Good evening,” he murmurs in disinterest, “Lisa is waiting for you in her chambers.”

He silently slips by you, tucking his hands into the pockets of his breeches as he drags his slippered feet along the floor. The door remained open, orangey candlelight spilling into the hall. The solar is dimly lit, a sparse few candles and the central fireplace illuminate the space. Despite the chill that rattles your bones, the atmosphere appears rather welcoming. The floorboards creek beneath your feet as you enter the room. Your breath catches in your throat as you grow closer to Lisa’s chambers. It’s eerily quiet. Pressing your ear to the door is a fruitless endeavour. The only sign of life inhibiting the space is the glow of light that bleeds from the cracks.

“Your Grace?” You call, your knuckles gently wrapping the wood, “You called for me?”

Her voice is muffled when she responds with a meek, “Come in.”

Popping your head into the small space between the door and the frame, you peer into her room. Lisa stands in front of her large, four-post bed. She’s donned in a thin, wispy nightgown. Though the evenings have grown colder, the castle remains muggy well into the night. Most of her arms are exposed, and so is her collarbone. Lisa’s tanned skin looks like molten gold when bathed in the warm, fiery candlelight. 

The door clicks closed behind you as you slip further into her space. You feel over-dressed in your evening wear. Kaeya summoned you for a private dinner to discuss the upcoming festivities. He hoped you may have been able to sway Lisa’s opinion on some matter. The moment you returned to your chambers to continue packing your things, your conversation with Kaeya was entirely forgotten. You do remember how worried you’d been when he called upon you, having spent three hours with Glory trying to decide what to wear and how to style your hair. He didn’t seem the least bit interested in your appearance and now you felt rather silly, still sporting such extravagant clothing.

Lisa had gifted them to you.

“Your Grace?” You called, “Barbara said you wished to see me?”

She remained where she stood, with her back turned to you, “Yes, I did,” Lisa said, pressing her hands to her lower stomach, “I heard you shall be returning to the country soon.”

“Yes, in three days time.”

Lisa hums beneath her breath before shuffling over to the corner of her room. Her heeled slippers click with each footstep she takes, “I see, well you cannot return to the country without this,” she says, “The weather is getting colder and it would certainly be a shame if you went without it.”

Your cloak is clutched between Lisa’s trembling hands. When she turns around to face you, your heart drops into your stomach. Her eyes, always so expressive, shone wetly in the low light and her bottom lip quivered. You’d never seen such sorrow peel across her pretty face. She stood frozen in place like she’d be plucked from the confines of a canvas and dropped before you. Shame coiled around your belly and squeezed it uncomfortable tight. To think of her as some sort of masterpiece when she was wrought with such sadness, and sorrow that was crafted by your hands.

“Your Grace, are you alright?” You ask, taking a tentative step forward.

A sob is wrenched from Lisa’s lips, it’s harrowing and you can feel your heart snapping into a thousand pieces as she stumbles back and tucks herself against the side of her bed. You reach your hand out toward her but think better of it. Her cheeks are blotchy and tears have begun to fall in streaks against him against her will.

“You are leaving because of me,” Lisa hisses, clutching your cloak to her chest, “I have done it again, I have made a mess again.”

You shook your head in confusion, “I do not understand,” you cried, curling your fist against your chest, “I swear to you, your grace you have done nothing wrong.”

She hadn’t. Hiding herself away like a damsel locked away in some ivory tower was no fault of hers. You ran from her when she laid her mask aside and stood bare before her. You continued to bury your feelings so far down in the soil of that garden, you were unsure if you’d ever be able to unearth them once more. 

“Without you, I am so very lonely.”

The blunt edge of your nail digs into the supple flesh of your collarbone. Your confession does little to relieve the bone-crushing weight of remorse that squeezes the air out from within you but your tongue refuses to wag and spill any more secrets.

“Do not lie to me,” she whispers with a shake of her hair. Her wavy brown hair cascades around her shoulders, it’s the first time you’ve seen her without her hair meticulously styled. It makes her look even more defenceless than she is, “If there is one thing you should have learned from me is that you shall never lie to me.”

“Because it is treason?” It’s a stupidly sarcastic question to ask but you need to see her smile. The wet, half-hearted laugh she lets out is not nearly enough but it makes some of the tension gathered at your shoulders melt away.

Lisa’s brows push together, her eyes softening for a moment. Her expression is endearing and it placates the skittish animal inside of you, the one that begs you to run with your tail between your legs because nothing good can come from this. But, how can it not? How can nothing good come from Lisa Minci, she cradled the sun in the palm of her hands, she was crafted from all that was kind and gentle in this world. 

She nods, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated manner, “Well yes, I suppose that is true,” she swallows, her shoulders bowing inward as she shudders, “But you mustn’t lie to me for I cannot handle another heartbreak. So, speak plainly here and now, your words shall not leave this chamber, I promise you.”

“You did not call on me for two months,” you spit with a shake of your head, “I felt discarded and unwanted at court and I was so very lonely I could no longer bear it!” 

Your eyes dart back and forth between Lisa’s eyes and her expression, searching for something within them. You came back with nothing more than an abundance of shared guilt that began to pool at both of your ankles.

“But it was no fault of my own, it was torture by my design and mine alone.”

“I do not understand,” Lisa shook her head in confusion, she hated not understanding.

But, when you spoke in cryptic tongues, your own frustrations boiling over how could she understand? Too many words remained unspoken, they hung in the air like taunting fingers just waiting for the right moment to jab at your soft spots.

“You were vulnerable with me and we …” Your voice trails off, your cheeks burning even hotter than the still crackling fire in the corner of Lisa’s chamber, “And then I ran from you, like a child and I ruined everything between us.”

“You have ruined nothing, darling.”

Lisa’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment as she deeply inhaled. Your heart skipped a beat, “darling”. For a moment you could pretend that this was some sort of clandestine affair rather than what it truly was.

“I did,” you murmured, “You couldn’t stand to look at me for two months!”

“I kissed you.”

Your breath catches and a raggedy cough escapes you. The very thing neither of you had been brave enough to say out loud or think upon for longer than a few short seconds before you forced your thoughts to settle onto something less terrifying. Of course, Lisa was brave enough to say it out loud, to give life to the moment that you desperately tried to bury away like a rotted corpse. Lisa had a strength that you don’t think you’d ever be able to possess, she was born with it but her parents fostered it. All good and just leaders had to be strong, but never would the king and queen think that their daughter was using all that they’d taught her to confront matters of the heart. Though, could they be categorized as such, if these feelings were meant to be reserved for men?

Your mother once said that temptations of the flesh manifested in many different ways.

Any man or woman could tempt a chaste and pure, well-bred genteel into laying in the pit of vipers because all were powerless to the taste of flesh. You had never known such a thing, your youth was sheltered and the only person your heart and body ever craved was Lisa. But it was wrong of you to think of her in such an impure manner. She was married, she was to be the queen, and she was a woman. Lisa was the person farthest from your grasp and yet your greedy fingers still reached for her coattails. Running to the country allowed for all of these feelings to wash away with the morning tide. You’d be clean once more and maybe next summer you’d be wed and enraptured in marital bliss.

The longer you remained here, the more complicated this web of strangeness grew. You felt lost and tangled within a never-ending maze of emotion and escape sounded too enticing. Lisa had done it, she escaped you before you had been ready for it, now it should have been your turn.

Lisa kissed you and you could not dwell any longer within her chamber because if you did, you’d kiss her.

It was a need, you needed to kiss her. A part of you wished to be brave like her even if it was just a crude imitation of the real thing but your mother's words and your fears of alienation crept along the back of your neck and whispered vile threats against the shell of your ear. 

“You kissed me.”

“And then you ran,” Lisa sniffled, a sad smile playing on her lips, “Away from me, how could I have called upon you when you made your feelings quite clear that day.”

Clutching your cloak against her chest, Lisa nuzzles her nose into the furry collar. A few tears drip down the slope of her cheeks and stain the fabric darkly, “Yes, I ran but it is not because of you,” the heavy material of your dress uncomfortably compressed your chest, making it difficult to breathe, “I ran because I was afraid of much more I wanted from you.”

Her mouth echoes your words but no sound comes out.

“Even now as we stand here, I want more than just a kiss but I can never have it.”

“And why not?” Lisa blurted, “Why can I not give you all that you desire?”

Your cloak drops from her hands to the floor without a second thought. Lisa straightened her shoulders, pressing herself back into the mould of a woman she used to wear so well. It wasn’t because she needed to posture herself as someone she was not but because it stirred a confidence in her that could not be broken once she had it clasped within her hands– its rightful place.

“Who shall stop us? I am the heir to the throne.”

You want to laugh and to tell Lisa that she cannot simply flout her duties and use her title like a tyrant when it suits her but a voice deep inside your head was screaming for you to keep your lips sealed, “What about your marriage? Hm, what about Diluc,” you say instead, pushing down the growing want that singes your belly with its devilish flames, “He does not deserve such a betrayal.”

The words leave an acrid taste on your tongue. 

In truth, you cared little how Diluc felt about his wife's desires because it was clear in your eyes that he did not either, not if she was standing here before you in a state of undress, taunting you to fall prey to her loving touch. You were not in control of your mouth’s movements, it parroted someone else's voice without your permission.

Something sits on the tip of Lisa’s tongue. A confession or secret of sorts that was not meant for the ears of a lowly courtesan. You heard whispers of Diluc but never paid them any mind, in your eyes they were as false as whatever egregious vitriol was spewed about Lisa. Those at the very top were never as well-loved as their subjects would have them believe, their ambition and thirst for power corrupted whatever good will they may have held. 

“Diluc does not need to know.”

Oddly, Lisa does not appear ashamed. In the morning when the flames have dwindled down to cooled embers and hardly have the strength to flicker, Lisa might feel ashamed. Tonight, she did not want to. She wished to relish in the feelings that she spent her entire life yearning for but could only suppress them with a forceful hand. Her stomach twisted itself up in excitement, at the prospect of wetting her maw and indulging in the appetite that she was shamed for having.

“You made an oath before Barabtos,” you continued, sucking in your bottom lip between your lips, “You cannot break that oath.”

“I swore to love a man I do not care for before a God that I do not believe in,” Lisa confessed, her hand rising to rest against her chest, “Is that not a sin too?”

Your throat feels like it is closing, your lungs threatening to constrict until you turn blue.

“Barbatos is kind.”

He’d forgive Lisa, that is what you wish to tell her but could he forgive this? Perhaps not.

That yellow-bellied craven is back again, resting its haunches upon your shoulders. You cannot shake it off because your mind races and allows itself to fall under the craven’s spell. The thirst that festers fights to be heard and appeased but all you can think about is how your silly, overly lavish attire chokes you.

Roughly tugging at your necklace until the clasp breaks, you throw it to the floor but it isn’t enough to fill your lungs. Your gloves are torn off next but you cannot reach the tiny buttons to free yourself from your petticoat. Lisa stares at you with concern, she’s come dangerously close to you. She smells of jasmine and honey, her hair is still rather damp and when she stands directly before you, you can see how the ends frizz. 

“He is kind,” she agrees, boldly reaching to cup your heavily flushed cheek, “But I am far sweeter than he.”

“Lisa,” you whimper, her name comes out like a kitten's mewl and it is mortifying, “We shouldn’t no matter how much we wish to.”

Her touch sears your skin but it is electrifying and thrilling in a way that makes your heart race. You like the way her calloused palm slides across your smooth skin in a gentle caress but your mind is screaming at you to hate it, to hate this, to hate her. Leaning forward, Lisa presses her forehead against yours, and a long sigh passes through her pursed lips. She wouldn’t taste like raspberries and cream if you were to kiss her right now and that very notion made you wonder what she would taste like. There was no sharp sting of wine on her breath nor any goblets and pitchers. Lisa had not fallen into her cups, she was of sound mind and she wanted you in the way you wanted her.

Though you did not have the words to articulate what it was that you needed from her, you could feel that she knew exactly how the yearning felt to gnaw away at her flesh just as you did. 

“I’m tired of denying who I am.”

Tears stick to her wispy lashes, but she does not appear saddened.

“Are you not tired of living a farce?” Lisa demands, her eyes boring into yours, “Do you not wish to feel just for one night what it is to be honest?”

Her tears leak onto your cheeks and drip down into the corners of your mouth. They’re salty but utterly human. It strikes you that Lisa had not been wholly human in your mind. Her sincerity and her vulnerability scared you because you did not recognize the fragility that all earthly beings possessed, yourself included. You saw her mask and the caricature she played but you still thought of her as some obscure and untouchable figure. What a disservice that was.

“I do not know what it is, to be honest,” you confess, shutting your eyes with a sigh, “And I am afraid.”

“Of what?”

Lisa’s voice is gentle, her other hand comes to cup your other cheek. You shook your head, unable to muster up an answer that would make sense to anyone but you. 

“Of everything … of what comes afterward.”

Nothing could ever come from this. There was no afterward, that you knew but the potential of something erupting from the walls of her chamber and spilling out to the court made your blood run cold. She was the future of the realm, you could not be the reason she was deprived of her birthright or bringing ruin to this kingdom because some moronic barbarian of a cousin challenged her claim due to some foolish misstep that you goaded her into. You would never forgive yourself if you were to bring such ruin to the realm and to her.

It wasn’t fair.

To think, of how men could bed whomever they pleased whenever they wished and never once had to think of the consequences. For them, sex was as much of a God-given right as their status, lands, and titles. If they left a young miss pupped it was her fault for succumbing to a man's charms, she was the idiot but truly it was never a surprise. Girls were foolish, they were born lacking in the eyes of society and would never fulfil the impossible standards they were held to.

You were endlessly frustrated, but Lisa did not need your pity. She needed your resolve, lest she forget how truly precarious of a position she held.

“It would ruin you were anyone to find out,” you whisper, your brows stitching together as you frown, “Think of your future, think of the realm.”

Lisa shook her head, a huff passing through her nostrils, “That is all that I have done my entire life!” She exclaimed with a pithy laugh, “It is why I gave my blessing for Jean’s union to Varka and it is why I agreed to marry a man with whom I hold no affection for!”

Her eyes search yours for something utterly intangible, you wish to give it to her but you held even less than she did. Resting your forehead against hers, you press your eyes firmly shut. You could not bear to drown yourself even further within her swampy green eyes. They cut like a blade forged from noctilucous jade, sharp and stinging the longer you allowed yourself to prickle with forlorn.

“I am a woman of royal blood,” Lisa says with a resigned sigh,  “It is my duty to be tortured.”

The way her hands quiver against your cheek brings tears to your eyes.

“And I am so tired of being tortured.”

Your eyes fly open to meet hers, and a few stray tears dribble off your lower lash line and gather beneath your eyes.

“Is it so wrong to covet one evening in which I am unshackled from the bonds of duty?” She implores, her voice crackling with shame, “Why is it so shameful for me to want, and to act upon it?”

“It isn’t, Lisa,” you whimper as a lump settles amid your throat, “But are you not afraid of all that you could lose?”

Lisa shrugs her shoulders, and a sad smile sits on her lips, “If I am to be burned at the stake for succumbing to my need to relish in the touch of another then I will have lived a full life,” she says with a certainty that startles you, “They would burn me for less, so why must I allow them to puppeteer me about like a miserable fool.”

Her hands slide from your face as she pulls away from you. The loss of her warmth steals the breath from within your lungs but the disappointment that festers is what surprises you.

“I understand if this is not what you want, so take your cloak and leave, and I shall wish you a safe journey home.”

Though she stands still before you, her posture rigid, it is as though you can see her placing her porcelain mask over top of her visage once more. The vaulted door inches closed the longer you stand silently in place, your mouth dumbly gaping as you struggle to comprehend the whirlwind of emotion that relentlessly whips you around. Lisa was older than you, she’s had many more years to work through the injustices that permeated the society she would soon rule, such injustices she may well uphold to secure another era of peace but you had just scratched the surface. You had always known it was cruel, the double-edged knife that pierced your chest and taunted you as you teetered along the rope of societal convention but never had you considered skirking duty and responsibility to steal one single moment where you deluded yourself into thinking nothing else mattered. Where there was action there was consequence, that was the way of the world but as you stood there you could not help but wonder if there would be no cosmic justice to answer to if you danced in the dark of night.

“Lisa … I,” your voice trails off as you stare at her figure, eyes raking over the ample curve of her hip, “I do not wish to leave but, I could not bear to live if I were to cause you harm by acting upon my uncouth desires.”

Her expression turns sympathetic, “Oh, sweetling,” she coos with the affection of a mother, “No desire is uncouth, flesh craves flesh. It is the most base and natural desire for us mortal beings to possess.” You feel like a child as she regards you but Lisa was raised for this. To slip into the role of mother, lover, sister, or friend if the situation called for it. Your stomach churned at the idea of being treated just the same as any other courtesan but it was to no fault of her own. A thousand questions rest at the tip of your tongue all of which you presume to know the answer to. The rumbling need that eats away at your insides begs for your mind to settle into a state of ease so your body can be satiated. 

Her words soothed you some. You decided that would be enough for you to nod your head in agreement despite her words going against everything you had been taught to believe.

“There is nothing for you to be afraid of, nothing and no one shall lay harm to your head.”

Your concern for her seems to hang idly between the two of you. Lisa does not wish to address it, you wouldn’t force her hand, you couldn’t but it itches at the back of your mind as you step closer to her. She knew that you cared for her and her position, that would have to be enough for now.

“Thank you, Lisa,” you say with a small dip of your head. The roots of formality are buried deep within you and you happily cling to it like a babe with its favourite blanket, “I trust you, I do not doubt that you shall protect me as you always have.”

Smoothing your hands across the firm expanse of your corsetted top, you wistfully gaze upon Lisa. She beckons you forward with a quick flick of her wrist, “May I?” She asks, gesturing toward your petticoat.

“Yes, please if you would be so kind,” you laugh, the warmth in her gaze melts the tension gathered within your body, “Glory laced my corset a smidgen too tight this afternoon, I could hardly sit for for dinner.”

Lisa’s lithe finger glides across your shoulder blades as she moves to stand behind you. Goosebumps rise along the path she traces, and a shiver slivers between your ribs and leaves you rattled. The tiny pearl beaded buttons that follow the length of your spine give way easily to Lisa as she plucks them open. Your top begins to sag around your shoulders to reveal your corset-covered chemise. Lisa is oddly attentive in the way she undresses you, her touch is feather light and fleeting as she slides the sleeves of your top down your arms and folds it together before she sets it aside.

“Glory is a sweet girl,” she muses as she runs the palm of her hand flat against your top, “But, she has much to learn still, just as we all do.”

Turning your head to the side, you peer at Lisa from the corner of your eye, “Even you?”

“The game of thrones is not so easily won,”  she cryptically mutters. Your skirt falls and pools at your feet when she pops the button holding it in place, “So yes, I too have much to learn.”

“You appear so …” Your voice trails off, a gasp cutting into your words.

The heat from Lisa’s palms bleeds through the thin fabric of your underclothes when she rests her hands on your hips. 

“What was that?”

Her breath fans across your neck, hot and heavy. 

Your head grows fuzzy but the feeling is pleasant and welcomed by you. This line of conversation is dead and buried, a mountain of soft damp earth piling on top of it as Lisa presses her abdomen flush against your back, her chin delicately perching upon your shoulder. Her hands slither from your hips to your lower belly, the tips of her fingers just barely caressing the stiff bottom of your corset. A throbbing sensation builds between your legs, it's simultaneously familiar and foreign. You may have felt it one night when trapped between the comforting embrace of a dream and the harsh reality of waking. The pads of her fingers absentmindedly stroke your belly, and your breath catches and compresses your chest where it sits, smouldering.

Pressing your thighs together, you allow yourself to meld into her form, “Nothing,” you breathlessly whisper, “Lisa would you … undress me?”

The pitchy lilt of your voice makes you cringe when the sound reaches your ears. Could Lisa decipher why your usually smooth voice grew shaky, if she peered and examined your expression would she see the beginnings of lust form within the pools of your irises? You knew nothing of lust or love but something that laid between the two must have swirled within you. If it was as natural as Lisa proclaimed it to be, then there was no reason for you to feel so overwhelmed with the prospect of feeling something new. You were human, a creature of habit that sought skin like anyone else. Taking a breath, you willed yourself to relax.

“Oh yes,” Lisa mumbles, retracting her embrace, “You must be terribly uncomfortable, darling.”

You bob your head up and down in agreement though that isn’t why you need as few layers draped across your body as possible. Maybe it’s the unnerve you feel being so well put together while she was an apparition in her most vulnerable and honest form. Still stuck in the muddy depths etiquette. To be equal with her was a ridiculous sentiment but for her to be beneath you in any manner was rather absurd. But in her chambers anything was possible, wasn’t it? Or it was one of the many things you failed to put into words out of fear and a lack of vocabulary. All you knew was that your skin burned and itched beneath the white cotton chemise, it would slough off in a matter of minutes if you didn’t peel the fabric from your body.  

Lisa guides your arms above your head once the ties are loose enough to be lifted and glide along your torso. You suck in a deep breath once you’re freed from the garment, your lungs fully expanding. It wasn’t often that you found yourself discomforted in the overly formal attire that made up your wardrobe as a genteel courtesan, the support provided by your corset quashed any qualms you had about how bothersome and restrictive it was and you quite enjoyed the artistry that came with intricately made lace trimmed gowns or paisley printed frocks. You had never felt as smothered by the weight of your overly embellished clothing as you did now. 

The chemise stuck to your sweat dabbled skin, the already thin white cloth becoming rather translucent. As you peered downward, your chin tucked into your collarbone, you stared at the way your nipples poked through the soft fabric with stiff peaks. Guiding the palm of your hand along your décolletage, you tug the chemise away from your flushed body but to no avail the damp fabric settles back upon your skin with a wet plop. 

“Is that better?”

Lisa’s hands hover over your updo, carefully plucking the masterfully placed pins that keep your hair twisted and coiffed, “Yes,” you say, your eyes rolling back into your head as your hair cascades into soft waves around your shoulders, “Thank you, Lisa.”

“You do not have to thank me,” you can hear the frown in her voice though you cannot see her expression, “Here I am just Lisa, not the princess or the heir.”

“Just Lisa,” you repeat out loud and then a dozen more times in your head until it sticks.

To completely remove a lifetime of conditioning is a near impossible task but once upon a time, it would not have been too strenuous to regard Lisa as a friend. That is what she has always been somewhere between the hazy image she projected outward and the person who stood before you— simply a friend.

“I believe I quite like Lisa,” you whisper in a conspiratory manner.

Spinning in a small circle, you turn to face her. You’ve never been bold, not one day in your life but you feel daring when you reach out to touch her. The tips of your fingers lightly brush her bicep but it electrifies you, spurring you on to wrap your hand around the crook of her elbow. Lisa studies your movement with observant eyes, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. It is almost a test of will when you tug her to you. Graceful as ever, Lisa does not stumble or trip over her feet at your abrupt movement. 

Trailing your hand up the length of her arm, you mirror her earlier actions and cup her cheek, “I like her a lot, even before she let me see her,” somehow, it is easier to speak to her as though the two of you were discussing someone else entirely, “I fear I like her more than I should.”

There is no easy way to confess all that lingers in your heart lest you wish to spend hours upon hours turning over each foible to meticulously inspect them. All you could hope for was that these few simple words resonated within Lisa without needing further elaboration. It was enough for you, to know she holds some sort of affection for you that extends far past what would be considered the norm.

“She likes you too.”

Her skin is hot to the touch. If Lisa is blushing it’s well hidden amongst the warm coloured firelight that flickers weakly from the hearth. Still, even in the steadily dwindling light, she looks something straight out of the novels you drowned yourself in over the past two months. Her beauty has never been lost on you but as you’re able to fully appreciate her appearance you find your breath stolen from you. Even dressed in her nightgown she remains rather elegant but there is a demure essence that radiates around her exposed figure. You drink in the way her chest rises and falls with each breath she takes and how her tanned skin melts into gauzy white fabric. 

It was a shame that Diluc was her husband, he’d never appreciate the blessing he was gifted with every evening. Envy coiled dangerously tight around your gut, pulling your belly taunt for a moment. You have to remind yourself that he was as much of an unwilling participant in this doomed union as Lisa is, neither of them were to blame and you would not have wished for Diluc’s lover to spurn or disparage Lisa for a fate that she did not choose for herself. Diluc must have taken a lover too, if only to mitigate the frigid cavern of loneliness that filled their solar. 

Setting your focus on to the sharp curve of Lisa’s cupids bow, you force any loitering and unwanted thoughts of Diluc far away. It’s a repeated action that makes your insides feel ugly because you were the sole focus of the woman you embraced. You made a quick and fruitless prayer to Barbatos that with age your jealousy would fade. If your God were listening you hoped that he would give you a sign that he could forgive the transgressions you were to commit.

“Good,” the corners of your lips twitch into a smile, your thumb tracing a circle into her cheek, “It pleases me endlessly to know.”

You think that you should ask for her permission before you move to kiss her but then you’d lose the nerve you’d begun to build before you ever got the chance to make the proposition. Slowly leaning toward her, you angle your face so close that the tip of your nose bumps against hers. You can hear the audible hitch that falters her steady breath, you can feel it too. The rapid rush of blood that swishes your eardrums is defeaning but above it all you can hear the way Lisa’s heart beats frantically, though it may mistaken the sound of your own roaring heart for hers.

Where your lips are slightly have slightly crackled from nervously chewing and picking at the skin, her lips are as soft as a rose petal and tastes of nothing at all. Once more it is over as quickly as it began– the quick brushing of lips, a divine sample to fill the insurmountable urge of want that hungers for the taste of skin. Lisa stares at you for a moment, her eyes shockingly round and blinking, there is something heavy that lurks within the murky depths of her irises that shoots a jolt straight to your core. Messily threading her fingers through your hair, Lisa haphazardly mashes her mouth against yours in a desperate haste that leaves you gasping against her lips.

Your hips bump into the sturdy oak wood frame of her four-poster bed when you stumble back from the weight of Lisa’s body crashing into yours. Her nails dig into the fragile skin of your scalp, it stings in a pleasant way that has you keening into the kiss. You catch bits of Lisa’s tongue and teeth, there is nothing poised or practiced in the primal way she attempts to consume you. Your jaw falls slack to allow her tongue to ravish your mouth, curiously it flicks against the roof and slides against your own useless tongue that lays limp. The selfish sort of satisfaction that fills you grows exponentially with each inexperienced and utterly depraved motion.

“Lisa,” you pant between sloppy open-mouthed kisses, “I … I need you.”

Need is a rather obscure word, it leaves a rather spacious crevious for Lisa to guess what you mean when you tell her that you need her. A moan spills like ichor from your throat when she roughly tilts your head back to expose the column of your neck, her teeth tear into as if it were as pulpy and thin as a peach’s fuzz blotting blotchy bruises that you’d figured out how to cover up tomorrow when your senses return to you. For now, they shall remain lost to you because all that is tangible within your brain is need. You needed Lisa in the same way you needed air to breathe or sleep to carry on into the next day. You needed Lisa like she were a leather waterskin dipped in the glacial waters of the Starglow Cavern on a sweltering mid-August day. There would be no you without some piece of her embedded between your hip bones because you needed her.

She seems to understand or at the very least share some of this carnal all consuming feeling. Her hands released their hold on your head and floated down to your hips to grab fistfuls of your flesh. The fabric of your chemise becomes bunched up between her hands and exposes the smooth expanse of your legs to Lisa who leers at the sight with her lips drawn between her teeth. 

Lisa lazily sighs your name into the crook of your neck, languidly rolling the syllables around her mouth as she allows her calloused palms to squeeze your thigh. In all the ways you imagined what bedding another would be like, never would you have thought for it to be filled with an urgency that left you reeling. You thought it was supposed to be gentle and timid with you spread across your duvet with the sweet floral notes of some luxurious flower filling the air. All you smelt now was scored cedar, sweat, and the smothered undertones of the fragrant perfumes you and she both wore.

Lisa’s touch was searing, you could feel her all over you even when she drew back to climb atop  her cushy mattress, “Come here,” she beckoned, her breasts bouncing as her chest heaved with a ragged breath, “Right this instant.”

Her demanding tone made your knees weaken where you stood and it pleased you greatly to her play the part of the petulant princess the court tried to make her out to be. Hitching your leg over the edge of the bed you pulled yourself upward, landing on her mound of overly fluffed pillows with a huff. Her bed was stupidly large and ridiculously high off the ground. You grumbled under your breath as you rolled over to face Lisa, your elbow digging into the mattress as you propped your head up.

“Off, will you please take this off?” She nearly begs, her hands already leaving her sides to tug at the frilled hem of your chemise, “I would like to see all of you.”

Your heart skips a beat, “Only if I too can see all of you,” the coquettish lilt in your voice borders on teasing, “It is only fair, is it not?”

“I suppose it is,” she chirps, teasingly pushing one strap of her nightgown down the slope of her shoulder, “In another life, you’d make a rather fine negotiator my darling.” 

The other strap falls on its own. The bust of her nightgown crumples beneath the weight of her breasts, sliding down her body to reveal the parts of her that were usually swathed in fine silks imported from Liyue and gems harvested from Sumeru. Your mouth ran dry as Lisa reached behind her to tug at the loosely tied laces of her dress. Her breasts spilled out as the fabric slipped off and pooled around her hips.

Some time ago you had peered into a dusty, long forgotten tome tucked away into a forgotten corner of the library. Among its pages were the histories of the lands before the Archon War and the Seven blessed the lands of Teyvat. There were detailed accounts of long dead deities of love and beauty, pages upon pages dedicated to depictions of their supposedly perfect and delectable figure. Lisa looked as though she walked straight out of those yellowed pages and laid before you because she knew she was the Gods greatest trick of temptation.

The pudge of her belly created rolls that were begging you to dig your fingers into, “You are utterly divine,” you whispered, your eyes falling slack as you committed each curve and dimple to memory, “And I believe one of life’s greatest joys must be worshipping you in a manner befitting a Goddess.”

“Oh, you flatter me!”

She flaps her hand about in dismissal, rolling her eyes a bit as she impatiently waits for you to hurry along in undressing yourself.

“It is not flattery if it is the truth,” you murmur, a small wanton whimper biting into your words, “They should paint statues and create great marble figures of you, with songs penned by bards that tell all who shall listen of the magnitude of your beauty.”

Hooking your fingers around the back of Lisa’s neck, you pull her in for a searing kiss, silencing any further witty quips. Lisa didn’t need flattery or falsehoods, she spent the entirety of her existence on the mortal plain being fed pretty words of praise ‘til she got sick of them. But your words were neither and you’d still speak them like hymns against her flesh until she believed them.

Lisa desperately pulled at the fabric of your chemise, your mouth and mind too focused on suckling on her tongue to mind how the garment tore as she stretched it over your shoulder blades, “I hate this thing,” She murmured between kisses.

“Then, tear it off!”

Your suggestion is thoughtless, you simply wished for her lips to stop mother and press to yours once more. You did not think she’d do it or even have the strength to rip through the cotton but she did. The chemise gives way to Lisa’s hands with such ease you can’t help but gasp as she peels the torn sweat sweat-soaked garment away from your body.

“That was quite fun,” she giggles to herself, “I shall buy you many more for the express purpose of wrenching them from your body!”

Her eyes appear pitch black, her irises diminished to thin green rings, absolutely drenched with lust. She drinks in the expanse of your bare skin, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. Pushing you to lay flat against the mountain of pillows that line her headboard. The rest of Lisa’s nightgown slips down her hips and rests carelessly aside. A thin trail of mousy brown hair dusts along the length of her abdomen from just beneath her navel, all the way to her pelvis where a thick patch of curls keeps her cunt hidden from your view.

Tossing her legs over your hips, she looms over you with a devilish expression, “By the Gods you are scrumptious,” she coos, “I could just take a bite right out of you!”

Lisa emphasizes her words by nipping at your earlobe and then again at the junction where your neck meets your shoulder. This bite is deeper and makes you jolt in surprise, but it melds into a breathless moan as she slips her hand between your bodies. Her fingertips graze your vulva, lightly tugging on your pubes before she draws a featherlight circle to your clit.

“That feels good,” you whisper, wrapping your hand around her forearm to keep her place, “Can I please have more?”

She laughs at you but not in an insulting manner like she means to humiliate you, “So polite,” Lisa hums, circling the pads of her fingers around your clit, “I’ve taught you well, haven’t I sweetling.”

“You have,” you purr, threading your fingers into her hair. It’s damp with sweat and sticks to the nape of her neck.

Your body warms and melts into the lush bedding, you’ve never felt hunger like this before. The pit in your belly sinks inward and your hips rise to meet her hand, chasing her touch because you’d never bite the hand that feeds you. 

“I’ve always wanted nothing more than to be good for you.”

Her plush lips brush the tip of your nose, “You’ve been so good,” Lisa says, “You’ve tried so hard.”

The loss of her touch makes you whine but it's soon replaced with the dripping wet heat of her cunt against yours. Lisa grabs your thigh, her fingers digging into the fat of your flesh as she positions your leg over her shoulder. Her breasts sway as she begins to rock her hips into yours, the slick arousal that coats your cunts allowing them to slide against one another with ease. 

She wears a sort of lovesick expression that you never imagined would be directed at you. Your heart soars and the wanton moans Lisa lets out are like music to your ears. Your insides feel gooey and your head grows fuzzy in a way not dissimilar when you’ve had your fill of dandelion wine but it’s better. 

“I have,” you croon, your eyes glazing over.

The headboard creaks loudly with Lisa’s movement, slamming against the wall in heavy thumps, “Mhm,” Lisa grunts, cursing under her breath. Her lips are too pretty for such filthy words, “The best and only for me, right?”

“Uhuh!”

It’s all you can muster up between the bare breaths that clog themselves in your throat and pleasured sighs. Lisa is unsatisfied, her hips nearly still as she peers down at you with a pointed expression. Frustration claws at your throat and you’ve half mind to bare your teeth and snarl at her for snatching away the threads of bliss.

“All yours,” you moan, the ravenous hunger is close to subsiding, “Only for you, I’m all yours Lisa.”

You both knew it was a false promise built upon a mountain of lies but as the two of you chased your bliss, it didn’t feel like it was. Honesty is all that either of you see through the hazed mist and sex filled air. It was a pleasant mirage that disguised the cruelties of society.

Streaks of red taint Lisa’s perfect skin, they’ll fade in two days' time but for now, they were there and they were proof that this wasn’t just some far fetched reverie that filled your lust-addled mind on a rather lonely eve.

“There will never be anyone else for me.”

Tears prickle at your eyes but you don’t feel sad. You’ve never felt as good as you did in that moment, pleasure washing over you and turning your limbs to stone as exhausting settled in. Lisa’s lips twitched into a melancholic smile, a heavy breath passing through her lips. She gazed at you for a moment, her eyes sweeping over your face before she laid back on the bed beside you.

Tomorrow, insecurity will poke itself into the side of your rib cage to take root in your lungs until you choke on the feeling. For now, her silence soothed your frazzled mind as she settled beside you, her arm looping over your stomach. Resting her head on your shoulder, she places one last kiss on the underside of your jaw before settling in for a restful slumber. 

You stare up at the top of the canopy, trailing over the vine printed pattern. 

Tomorrow none of this would exist.

You’d settle with the knowledge that while the only person your heart has room for was someone you could never, you’d love to see another day and eventually you’d find peace in it. Even if your heart sank with the knowledge that Lisa did not return the sentiment. Her lack of words was proof enough but you’d grow to have enough strength so it did not destroy like it would have. 

But, that was tomorrow's thought.

Tonight you sunk your teeth into the forbidden fruit that would taunt you for the rest of your days. You’d relish in the knowledge and feed on it during the harsh winter months and perhaps you’d feed again if the Gods were in your favour. For now, you let your eyes flutter shut and let the soothing embrace of sleep wrap around you much like she did.

It would be enough. It had to be, Lisa was never yours to keep and you had known it from the moment you met her.

“Good night, my sweetling,” she whispers into your soft, sweat-soaked skin.

She knows it too, all too well– as the future queen she cradled the realm between two careful hands, all but you. Anything she desired stood but a fingers brush away but you would never linger as close as you did this night, it was far too dangerous. Lisa was familiar with letting go, she’d have no trouble keeping you at arm's length and locking away the memories for the rare moments of indulgence. This was not the first time Lisa has had to put duty above all, it wouldn’t be the last either. There would be another Jean, another you, someone who captures her heart for a short while and brings to fruition all the hidden desires on a lust-filled evening when it all boils over and is inescapable. 

You weren’t special, perhaps Jean was and whoever comes last. She was the first, young love was unparalleled and could never be replicated.

Lisa has long since fallen asleep when you find your voice once more, “Good night, Lisa.” You whisper into the dark of night, skin pimpled with goosebumps.

“I won’t ever love anyone the way I love you.”

You’re speaking to no one in particular, Lisa cannot hear you and Barbatos has better things to do than listen to the languid murmurs of a lonely person– there are far too many of those across the expanse of Teyvat, their woes must fall onto deaf ears because they’ve grown boring.

“But, if I’m half as strong as you, I’ll carry on.”

You weren’t but you could wear the mask because if Lisa taught you anything, it was to pretend to be someone you would never be. And you’d grown to be quite as good, even as good as she. Lisa was just that good of a teacher. As sleep beckoned you into her comforting embrace, a second skin slithered over your body and pressed into your curves.

Tomorrow, you’d be the image of perfection the court and your family willed you to be and that would be enough for your aching heart. True love belonged sealed between the pages of parchment, in paragraphs of children’s tales and romantic ballads sung by drunk bards looking to charm a lady. There was no place for it in the court of Mondstadt or within House Minci– lofty positions and grand riches could not be won by those distracted by childish whims.

To be of royal or even genteel blood was to be tortured, but the two of you would persist as hundreds and thousands had before you.

“I must.”

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